Constellations
by Villemoo
Summary: You know how a story ends and you're left hanging desperately needing more? Or, to your horror, the fic just stops and is never updated, and now you're feeling so incomplete you're ready to die? Not with "Constellations" you're not! After critically acclaimed "Scientist" I bring you smut filled throwbacks, fluffy slice of life chapters, and most importantly - a continuation!
1. Aquarius

**For the lovely Adarya. :)**

* * *

 **Set at the beginning of November 2007, right after ch. 11 of "The Scientist."**  
 **Rated: M [NC-17]. Pure smut.**  
 **Betaed by fantastic ThreeDamnDots.**

* * *

 _Aquarius, or the virtue of patience and persistence._

 _In which old argument is revisited and new conclusion reached._

* * *

The light was different, temperature also way lower than it was the first time they had this conversation. Still, Bane stared at Helena in silence, processing whether this weird feeling in his chest was a deja vu spiked with possibility of righting his misstep, or stupid, aimless hope.

"A bath?" He echoed, wincing at the repeated motion. His brows rose noticeably, in a clear display of surprise. Almost immediately they dropped down in a frown, as he tipped his head back to regard Helena with suspicion.

"Well, you granted me one before."

He only grunted in response, straightening back up from his customary hunch by the desk. Barely noticeable relief untensed rigidness of his back.

"Is it very problematic?" she inquired. Her jaw tightened in a vain attempt to hold back a smirk.

"I'll think about it."

"I'm sure you will."

He waited until her hand moved the nib safely away from the page. Warm and heavy palm sneaked into her hair, pulling lightly so that she gazed up at him. No point playing the same game they did before. Her cards were on the table. Pretense was obsolete.

"And what would I get in compensation for my trouble?"

He expected her to bristle and shy away, but she surprised him again. Back of her skull nuzzled into his paw.

"I was thinking you'd join me this time."

Nonchalant shrug and silky tone of her voice did nothing to conceal dare hidden between the lines. A provocation so obvious, yet alluring all the same with its possibilities.

Warmth bloomed at the pit of his stomach, imagination supplying alternative outcomes to their previous opportunity, with a scaffolding of what he saw reflected on glass.

"It would be a tight fit," he noted.

"Isn't it always," she laughed. "But you enjoy fitting nicely and snugly against me, don't you?"

A gamble, he recognized fake bravado all too well. She wasn't sure of his reaction, but the rewards promised were too great to be overlooked, apparently. Already her pupils dilated, enjoying their banter and gentle fingers massaging her scalp.

"I'll think about it."

It was her turn to hum acknowledgement. Without reluctance she bowed back down over the manuscript, displaying dishevelled bun and smooth neck framed with wisps of hair.

Bane left her room murmuring something that sounded suspiciously like "Damn temptress."

oOo

There were things to do over the compound, all year round. Maintenance of the utmost basic sort like tidying quarters and gear, and more sophisticated thorough cleaning; inventorying, cataloguing, organizing, mending and resupplying. His men worked together well, but it all came with a cost, one that someone had to calculate, book and check.

Birdman trudged through explaining discrepancies on food budgeting, when the radio on Bane's desk screeched on to life.

Sparse wave of mercenary's palm muted the officer immediately, and Bane took the call with the same air he did everything. As if he knew already who would speak, and what they would want, and he was only listening for the sake of civility and his own amusement.

"Scribe requests to be brought to your quarters, if convenient. Advise. Over."

"I'll pick her up at 19:00. Over."

Without looking at Birdman he put the receiver back on a stack of papers where it rested previously. Sighed slightly.

"Does it really matter how many MRI's do we have in surplus?" he mused, looking over the courtyard. "Learning to fend for themselves might be a good grounding experience during lighter jobs."

"Sure, but then if we won't have enough for big groups like the Niger one, that would make them roam around and distractions await readily for big guys like that."

Not so subtle jab. Bane started dispassionately through the window still.

"Also, it's good for the morale, to know you're taken care of," Birdman reasoned. Never a father himself, he displayed a disturbing level of protectiveness over his men. Coddled them with his care.

"How much control do grown men need? The morale you speak of focuses too much on the physical. We have cozy hospital, room service and unlimited water. Warmth and shelter, all the toys a mercenary would like. You spoil them."

Birdman visibly swallowed down bitter retort, stopped by a glare from Bane. Instinct and experience taught him it was best not to jab at festering wound that was the Scribe.

"Let's keep the conveniences for trained operatives, but newcomers should learn to provide for themselves. We need resources for Norway still. Contact the abbot, and I'll start the transition talks with him."

Even an untrained eye would spot the effect the last sentence had on the officer. Bane frowned, wondering how long this unprofessional loosening of his composure lasted for. Did he miss it before, or was it a flaw developed only recently?

"Are you leaving this compound for good?"

"Eventually we'll have to leave it," he said, taking care of stressing the 'we' part.

"Is your plaything coming with us?"

Bane scoffed and waved him over, dismissal plain. He wasn't sure of the answer himself yet, but the less Birdman knew, the better.

oOo

Knowing glances from the guard told Helena everything she needed to know before Bane showed up to lead her through familiar corridors. No one laughed, men who passed them greeted Bane and nodded at her as they walked slowly towards door at the end of the wing.

The window was closed, but the room looked identical. There even was a bottle of rum on the stool by the bathtub.

Boy, was it awkward, Helena thought with a sneer remembering her previous visit.

Silent presence behind her back did nothing to alleviate her apprehension now, just the same as before. She turned around to look at Bane.

"You plan on staying by the door again?" she teased with a smirk.

He didn't move from his comfortable slouch against the entrance, but mischievous gleam of his eyes betrayed what he had in mind. Stubbornly, he said only "Maybe."

"Suit yourself."

Robe slid down her arms with a whisper, swooshing quietly when she caught the fabric before it pooled at her feet. Bottle clicked softly on hardwood floor, and she wasted no time in leaving all her clothes on the stool. Quick dip of her hand to assure temperature of the bath and she carefully slid in one leg, and another.

"Too warm," she complained with a smile. Tried not to peek at Bane before she settled for good. Foam tickled skin when she leaned back in the tub, deliberately facing the window, matted with perspiration from the bath.

Pity, the view would be spectacular since it was clear and windy lately.

Rustling behind her was a courtesy, alerting her that he was near. Stool scraped on the floor when he positioned it by the tub.

"You never planned on going in, did you?"

"I wouldn't really fit."

Helena gripped edges, foam clinging to her skin and dribbling slowly down. Right. She didn't have much room to wiggle, and her feet touched the other end so she could rest comfortably with her head above the water. Definitely not enough space to fit them both without some serious contortions.

Disappointment creased her forehead. Her fingers played softly, tracing polished metal in haphazard patterns.

Bane reached to caress her cheek, smoothing lines on her forehead with his thumb. The position made him lean over her slightly, enough to make it easy for Helena to hook her fingers at his collar.

"Take your shirt off at least," she mumbled grumpily, leaning into his touch. "Don't make me imagine this time too."

Huff of air was both strong and loud enough to escape confines of the mask. With single minded efficiency Bane leaned back and pulled on tight fabric peeling it off. His eyes shone with mirth when he brought his hand back to hold his weight while he stretched over Helena.

"Tell me more."

Simple command, but it carried weight of a promise. Tell me more and prize will be sweet and plentiful, it said. Tell me more and I will make it happen, it said.

But she had other plans, ones that would be just as rewarding and spare the awkwardness of finding words good enough to entice a terrorist. She was always better at copying others anyway.

"I don't kiss and tell, Bane. That's very indiscreet." Her fingers went back to his neck, scraping lightly sensitive skin at the back. "But... I could confirm or deny, anything you'd like to, try out as a plausible content of my previous bathtime entertainment." All the while her hands never left his skin, playing delicately, maddeningly, tantalizing with soft caress.

The way he focused on her lips didn't escape her notice, and she used his attention to tease him further with a well-timed lick to the corner of her mouth. One, fast curl of her tongue and he huffed again.

Stool creaked as he shuffled to find better position. Hand that was holding him up moved to her neck, mirrored her caress. Blunt nails glided on smooth skin, leaving subtle marks.

"This is perfect way to start," she whispered.

As if he didn't know already.

Bane smiled, eyes trained on her face. Weight of her breasts was something he already grew accustomed to, the intimate knowledge of her body easy to gain and remember. He was eager and experienced, and soon had her gasping little involuntary breaths, as her muscles spasmed slightly. Watching involuntary tremors coursing through her body was intoxicating. She didn't hide them from him, as others did. She gave her pleasure freely, without ulterior motives, requiring only reciprocation from him.

Bane was keen to deliver.

Stiffened nipples slid perfectly between his splayed fingers, caught finally in tender spot at the base. He clenched his hand and dig pads of digits into soft skin beneath.

"Ah, too hard!" she gasped out.

He braced his free hand behind her, put more expertise into the caress, cupping now more than squeezing. For a while he rested his palm in the shallow valley at her sternum, feeling strong beating of her heart.

"I will fuck you in that rhythm."

Predictably, her pulse picked up, thrumming even more powerful and rapidly quickening.

"Yes, just like that. Slow and deep the way you like, and then just as I want, hard and fast."

Expanse of her stomach tensed, muscles pleasantly rigid under his nails, unkindly scratching down. But he didn't plan on touching her core just yet.

She shuffled her legs, moved them apart, and he took advantage sliding his rough palm down to her knee. The skin of the underside was velvety smooth under his fingertips, a treat in itself, with added bonus of joyful laughter from Helena.

"Ticklish?" he teased. Immediately his hand glided upwards, silencing her mirth, replacing it swiftly with anticipation.

"In," she breathed, the word a plea.

Bane was happy to oblige. He pressed in two fingers, stretching the opening slightly, relishing quiver of muscles as Helena brought her thighs together. Bane leaned in. The slickness he felt now was like liquid silk, stroking his desire higher with sheer abundance of it. He wanted to taste it, to smell her essence and lick it off her sweet perfumed skin.

Her head rested on his forearm, his hand clenched at the rim just beside her neck. Moaning, she nuzzled closer, licking his skin to feel more.

His fingers stroked her rhythmically, unhurried thrusts timed with the help of her own palms squeezing his bicep and shoulder, guiding him. Hypnotizing.

Water sloshed around with an unmistakable beat, adding substance to Helena's moans and Bane's quickened huffs. No hiding what they did, if anyone chose to walk the corridor now.

Then again, was that ever in question?

She started clenching her walls, and Bane struggled to keep his palm working steadily, with the pressure on his arm and undulation of her hips.

"More," she demanded.

It was the best kind of request, need clearly visible and readily audible, last syllable followed by a strangled whine through teeth clamped on her lip.

"Turn," he commanded, voice a grating rasp, betraying his own want.

Helena mirrored her position from beginning of the night, gripping edges of the tub tightly. Rapid panting only indication of how close he got her, how hot for him.

Bane let her watch as he unbuckled his belt, harshly tugging at the metal clasp, angrily sliding canvas fabric out of its place. Top of his pants was secured with wide velcro strap, and the sound of it ripping apart finally jolted the Scribe back to action. She sat up, smoothly transferred to her knees. Hesitated before turning around.

"I never really saw you before."

Rush of anxiety stroked his back, straightened hunched shoulders. He swallowed thick saliva pooling uselessly in his mouth.

What he wouldn't give to lean down now and lick her nervously bitten lips.

She kept her gaze glued to his eyes, even when sound of the zipper cut through silence of the room.

"Turn," he repeated, an undertone of need cushioning hard command.

It was obvious what she planned to do, he saw it from mile away. Still, first touch was almost unbearably intense.

She stroked tip of his cock with her mouth, took him in and swirled her tongue greedily around the crown.

Bane held her head still with one palm, the other steadying himself.

"Turn." A whisper this time.

He watched her suck on her lower lip, tasting his musk. Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head.

"Come here."

The idea was ridiculous.

He braced himself on the opposite side of the tub, pulled her roughly up when he stepped into the water. Hooked her legs at his hips, stretching them uncomfortably, pressing too closely to warmed metal. Helena grinned and adjusted her hold on the edges too, moved her body fluidly under his hands. Soaked canvas of his pants was smoother, but still rough enough to chafe pleasantly her behind when he pulled her closer.

The water splattered and sloshed, spilling freely to the floor as he ground his hips in tight, restrained drags. Irritation fought the desire to take more, and he found himself unable to stop long enough to realign their limbs. His back arched over her in laborious exercise, guaranteed to hurt the next day. Knees, cushioned by guards permanently attached to his pants, didn't slide on the bottom of the tub, but his palms did, his grip slipping into desperate one hand clawing as he pushed faster, tugging her closer by the hip.

He loved how vocal she was, how unashamed of her desires once he coaxed her to the act. Low moans rung in his ears, mingled between them with droplets of water, wisps of ever shrinking foam and his own grunts.

Just a little more.

Bane thrusted harder, desperate for the oblivion, uncaring. He relished loud breathy gasps of surprise from Helena, followed by frantic clawing on his skin, a sign he knew. Close.

Just a little further.

The tub moved.

He swallowed his concern, zeroing in on the moment, primal want coursing through his muscles, muting everything that wasn't an indication to rut harder, go deeper, move faster.

Just a few seconds, just a moment.

Vertigo gripped him for a millisecond, as they tipped over, the sensation of falling oddly comforting and peaceful. They spilled on the floor, along with a torrent of soapy suds. Bathtub hit the wood with a hollow bang.

Bane cushioned their fall supporting himself on the hand that gripped the tub, pressing Helena's head to his chest.

Three seconds and they could hear thud of steps outside, hurried sound signalling they had company.

"It's fine," Bane shouted. "Back to your posts."

"Yes, sir." Muted, from behind the door. Drenched with amusement.

Helena shook under him, so he carefully let her go, making sure her back was safely plastered to the floor. He started to gather himself up, but before he could tense muscles to kneel up she squeezed her thigh around him.

Deep and silky laugh echoed in the tub, and bounced between the walls of small room. Head thrown back, she braced her outstretched hands on his chest.

"I haven't finished yet, Bane. You wouldn't leave me unsatisfied after a bath again?"

Burying his head between her breasts he chuckled, as he reshuffled his knees, brought both his palms under her ass to end them both with languid strokes.

The angle changed, and every hit upwards Bane took care to bottom out with increasing force, slamming his abdomen bluntly to her clit. Heat of those last minutes so intense, he felt wetness practically vaporizing in translucent mist around them. Helena's moans turned throaty, and then as he grunted harshly through the mask, they changed quality to almost pained hissing through gritted teeth.

Her release followed his, lucky stroke tipping her over the edge after he finished and ground hard up overwhelmed with serotonin rush clouding his mind.

Edge of the tub provided him with a pace to rest his head, and he lazily stroked her quivering thighs, observing her calming breath in slowing expanding and compressing of her chest.

"No more baths together. Satisfied?"

She smiled and hummed.

Yes, he was too.

* * *

 **Once again, writing Helena and Bane, especially the masked man, was a pleasure. I missed it as soon as I saw "The Scientist" nearing its inevitable end, hence this little effort at letting go gently. One drabble at a time. More to come.**


	2. Scutum, 1 of 3

**Although this chapter picks the story up just when we left it in "Scientist", the following won't necessarily be a linear chronological continuation. Think of it as a journey through space and time on a ship of imagination. :D There will be some stuff from the future and some from the past, intertwined but not really rigidly connected.**

* * *

 _Scutum, or the unexpected reactions of a troubled heart._

 _In which nothing is as it seems at first_.

* * *

 **Part 1**

 **The Talk**

* * *

Helena's eyes never left his, staring in wonder, still not really believing he was here.

"We haven't got a chance at proper introduction," he smiled down at her, a boyish, honest grin. "Anthony Dorrance. Astrophysicist."

Her complexion turned an interesting shade of greyish green. Bane's smile faltered as he observed changing emotions on her face; irises steeled in an expression he remembered all too well from their last conversation.

"You fucker."

This wasn't what he had planned. His hands flew to her arms, keeping her close when he saw the slightest indication she might move away.

"Helena…"

"You stuck up, bloody megalomaniac. Do you have any idea... No of course you don't." Her lips thinned. "You talked with me through all those years and never mentioned you're… you?"

"What do you want me to say? Would you expect me to write: Hi, it's Bane, don't tell CIA my secret identity. I miss you, so let's not be mad at each other. You said some things, I said some things. I broke your leg, you killed our child. No hard feelings. Let's go back to the way things were when you were my prisoner?"

She gave him a withering glare at first, but in the end couldn't hold in a little laugh at his outrageous words.

"You always were utterly ridiculous."

The way she said it made it clear she wouldn't dismiss the notion he'd say it all as entirely impossible. She fell limply forward, rested her forehead on his clavicle, inhaled deeply.

Bane buried his nose in hair at the top of her head. Almonds. Sweet smell mixed with something warm and flowery, finally real and not imagined.

"I couldn't tell you. I should keep away from you, but I couldn't bear it. So I arranged for you to work for me. And we had to communicate then. And I could steal bits of information from you. Get to know how you were holding up. Were you happy? What did you need to be satisfied?"

"All I ever wanted was a peaceful life," she murmured, snuggling closer. "And I lost that the moment I met you." She looked up at him, earnestly. "And it was worth every minute being together."

He swallowed over a hitch in his throat.

"I want you to get away with me, soon." Another misstep, he saw it even before he finished the sentence. Sighing deeply he stroked her back. "But let's not spoil today with talk of the future. Sit with me."

"We should talk about future. And past. And what does it mean, that you're here now," she argued.

Bane nodded, a short curt movement of his head.

"Take a seat please."

She circled him, careful, considering.

"To talk?"

Signature curt nod put her at ease, but not entirely.

"How do you want to do this?" Bane asked. Best to be done with questions swiftly.

"Explain from the beginning. How did you become the man you are?"

"You understand it will take a good while."

She marvelled at range of emotions clearly visible on his face. Irritation, showing in tensing of his jaw. Delicately flaring nostrils in anger over her persistence. Obviously, he didn't want to hide from her, which in itself was a big theatrical gesture. Probably calculated. Still, she liked it. Appreciated the thought.

Before Helena could answer, her stomach emitted a growl worthy of a prowling tiger.

"I have time," she said quickly.

Lopsided grin made her heart melt. How many of those had she missed back at the monastery? Over the years apart?

"Hungry?"

"Rather peckish, yes," she admitted sheepishly. "I have some soup back at my place, we could go there?"

"No need to relocate, I am perfectly prepared to provide for my guest. If you please," he said, gesturing towards open kitchen behind them.

Helena sighed slightly and obediently shuffled to a barstool overlooking working station.

"What do you have? And don't think I'm taking you off the hook, you can still speak while working."

"Indeed," he murmured, the sound muffled slightly by refrigerator door between them.

"Indulge me and tell what did Americans relay to you about my beginnings."

"Later."

"Humour me."

"Perhaps later," she said, watching his hands and stressing the first word. If she looked up her resolve would crumble. "You start, and then we'll straighten out any doubts and fill up blanks later."

Bane's hands stilled for two seconds over vegetables. "As you wish. I will give you shortened version, and then elaborate if you find yourself curious about any details. Is that acceptable?"

"Perfectly, yes."

"Before that, a drink?" he asked, turning without waiting for a reply.

"You're stalling," she noted dully. "Why?"

He brought out two bottles of beer, handed one to Helena after opening it with his thumb.

She stared for a second, astonished, and then a slow leer creeped on her lips.

"Neat party trick."

He winked over the bottle at her, as he took a healthy swig.

"Liquid courage," he admitted.

Helena only arched one brow at that. As if he ever needed that.

Bane went back to chopping.

"I was born exactly fifty one years ago, in part of the world that can only be described as backward and forgotten. My father was a terrorist, mother also, although she would probably use term guerrilla fighter. None of that mattered anyway. She had delivered me in prison, which she was an inmate at. I was to serve my father's sentence, since he was resourceful enough to escape the country before being apprehended."

His face was blank, as if he recited a passage from a book.

"First five years of my life are a mystery even to me. Sometime then my mother died. I don't really remember her. I was crawling through corners and shadows, until one day someone noticed me, took care of me. But the prison is no place for a child. I killed a man for the first time when I was six."

Slight smile stretched his mouth on one side, a memory bringing back complicated feelings, not all bad.

"Life in the prison, we called it the Pit, was the only thing I knew until I got myself a teacher. Some priest, imprisoned for god knows what. Pathetic man. I was a teenager by then, and I showed him the ropes. He taught me to read in exchange."

"I read everything in sight. Every little scrap of junk I had was traded for books. I learned about history and fantastic world of manners and kindness, so foreign to me. The priest noticed my hunger for knowledge, and as I grew he used it to procure more favours from me. He showed me direction in which to study, told me which titles, authors to seek."

"Then, when I was about sixteen, they lowered another pregnant woman in the pit. Another child was to suffer through its father's sentence. Naturally, I was curious. There were women between us, but the new one was different. She was delicate, proud in a way no one else I saw was. And calm. I couldn't understand how she was so peaceful. Serene."

Helena observed how his body transformed, moving in softer more careful way, with gentleness she rarely glimpsed before. Now she knew who inspired that in his heart.

"She had knowledge no one else could have. We became friends, and when she finally delivered the baby I vowed to protect the little girl with my life. Her name was Talia. You might know her as Miranda Tate."

As could be expected, the scribe gasped in surprise. Everyone on Earth knew name of Gotham's benefactor turned villain.

"When she was four there was an accident. A man who was taking care of her mother, our medic, forgot to bolt the cell they occupied. Left them vulnerable." Bane fell silent, processing anew the rage he felt, the horror and despair. "You understand, a woman of this finery at the fingertips of all those people… We were all animals, but some more than others," his voice trailed, jaw set in an uneasy, angry grimace. "She died soon after."

"I took care of Talia. As she grew, I taught her everything I knew. Prepared her to escape the Pit. And she did. She did so beautifully, went without any hesitation or regrets weighing her down, like I never could. I made her run and stayed behind myself making sure no one would touch her. On that day I got most of my scars and the pain that later… Well, we'll come to that. Eat."

Helena straightened, shaking her head slightly. Bane's tale was mesmerizing. He seemed mostly detached. Mostly. Whenever he spoke of Talia or her mother every emotion he felt towards them was visible on his face.

With healthy dose of surprise she looked down at the plate he set before her. Simple sautéed chicken and mashed potatoes, with mushroom gravy. Chopped salad on the side. It looked delicious. Tentatively she dug in, after stealthy glance to her left to make sure Bane ate too.

"It's really good," she said.

"Why, thank you," Bane swung another sip of his beer. "Why so surprised?"

"Didn't think you had time to cook."

"I make time for important things in my life," he replied, challenge clear in his eyes. "Besides, it's hardly a complicated ordeal."

"Shall we continue with your story?"

"Let's finish eating first."

He seemed sad. Helena couldn't make herself press him harder. Gripping fork tighter than necessary, she tried to convince herself the urge to comfort him was natural.

Too soon for that still.

They ate in silence.

At one point Bane moved his elbow slightly too far and bumped Helena's forearm just as she raised a piece of chicken. The look she sent him after eyeballing cross-eyed her soiled nose was devastating.

"Really, Bane?"

"That wasn't intentional," he chuckled, leaning over the counter to get a paper towel.

"It's hard to believe that sentence whenever you're involved," she said, sulking.

He scoffed and gently wiped sauce off her face, holding her still with warm fingers under her chin.

"I could do it myself," she murmured, forcing herself to keep frowning, even after he let her go. Her ears warmed.

"I know." He tucked back into his potatoes. "Still, the damage was done by me, so it's only natural I was the one who took care of it."

Helena glanced at him just as he licked some sauce off his lips. The argument died on her tongue, mind went blank.

"Also, you let me," he said looking pensively ahead.

When they finished, Bane cleaned the dishes, refreshed Helena's drink and ordered her to get cozy on the sofa.

She had a little panic attack while he was still busy in the kitchen, thinking over how and where to sit. Should she lay sprawled on one sofa, making him rest separately on the other? Sit, prim and proper, leaving him enough space to recline nearby? Would he even want to? Eventually, she decided to leave a bit of suspense for herself, and curled up in a corner, shielding her legs with a blanket. Sufficiently open, since there was more than enough place beside, but visibly closed off to any contact.

He sat at the opposite side, legs sprawled, leaning on the backrest while nursing his half-finished beer.

"Where did I stop?"

"You know where. Scars."

"Ah yes. Courtesy of the medic. He tried stitching me up after I was beaten by other inmates. The result you saw. Also, there was pain. A lot of crippling pain. Coincidentally, we had a plague at that time too," he added conversationally. "I'm not sure how long it lasted. Enough said, when rescue came, I was indifferent to anything but death."

"Rescue?"

"Talia found her father after escaping. His name was Henri Ducard, a mercenary. Only he became much more than that during those ten long years between Talia's conception and the day she located him. He was known as Ra's al Ghul, Demon's Head, the leader of League of Shadows."

Helena would have burst with laughter, if she hadn't heard that outrageous name before in correlation with Gotham.

"Are you a part of this organization?" she poked tentatively.

"I was," he nodded. His eyes were glued all the time to the sight outside.

Helena kept observing him.

"I was rescued at Talia's explicit request. Most of inmates were killed during that operation, but some survived. The medic. My teacher. I was taken to League headquarters, nursed back to relative health. It was then I was given the mask. It operated on a volatile, extremely addictive drug. Venom. No idea who thought of the name, but it was very apt. It had unfathomably strong painkilling effect, and also acted as a booster. One of the reasons my muscle mass was so great."

"It's still not too shabby."

"I'm a shadow of my former self," he noted without bitterness. "Both Talia and I were trained in martial arts, history and most importantly - purpose of the League. They discovered my good sides, and honed them to make me a perfect killer. All the time, I could feel Ducard resenting me, for fulfilling fathers' role in his daughter's life. Eventually, I was excommunicated out of the league over a minor mistake, and had to make a name for myself."

His head shifted on the backrest, gaze piercing. "I did everything to make people fear my very name. How I got it you might suspect," he smiled as Helena nodded. "And then I multiplied every cruel deed by ten, and then more still, until I could wait until work came to me, instead of the other way around. I couldn't see Talia often enough, because her father forbid any contact, so we had to hide well. I had more than enough time to plot, burn, pillage and destroy. Then you happened."

There was something in the way he said it, that made Helena's heart ache. Timbre of his voice hitched, wistfulness crept between the syllables, reminding both of them of everything that transpired.

"It was only a year. Not even that." Helena stated. Defensively, but with a hint of resolute determination. She won't be swayed or distracted again.

Bane smiled, looking out to the sea.

"You unsettled me. I never felt the need to experience the so called normal life. You changed that." He swallowed another gulp of beer, frowned at the bottle and put it away. "But then I had to let you go."

She wanted to tell him she was sorry, comfort him and smoothen the bitter grimace around his lips. Her hands fisted on the blanket, eyes turned to the sea as well.

"Right after I left the monastery, I got a word about Ra's al Ghul's death. He was the man who tried to destroy Gotham back in 2008."

"What?"

"The attack that had mass panic and unexplainable fear, looting and pillaging, the one that ended with a train crashing in the middle of the city? That was him."

"Oh, shit."

"Indeed." Bane nodded solemnly. "Talia came to me pledging to help her take up his mantle as Demon's Head. So I did. I plotted destruction of Gotham for years, all because little girl missed her daddy."

The regret was dripping from every word. Helena startled when she looked at him again and saw tears streaking slowly down his cheeks.

"And all that effort wasted anyway."

Helena's hand gained its own conscience for a second, long enough to reach out to Bane. She couldn't touch him, it was too far, but the gesture was enough for him to lean closer and down, laying his head on her legs. For a second she was at a loss, but then instinct and emotions took over and she smoothed her palm through his hair.

Her voice was calm and steady, without hint of forgiveness when she spoke.

"But you would kill all those people without regret, if the bomb would have exploded."

"Of course," he admitted. "For the longest time I was forced into the narrative of fighting forces of evil, of corruption, of greed and shamelessness. We were supposed to be the pure ones, the scalpel to cut out the rot." His fingers played with the thread of fabric before his eyes. "I knew it wasn't true. Only at the end I realized Talia did as well and she planned to bury us all. To truly rid the world of those who soiled it."

"What a crock of shit," Helena whispered.

Bane smiled.

"Wait, but why are you presumed dead? How did you escape that showdown at City Hall?"

"I was preparing the siege itself since early 2009. There were measures I took. We had a hiccup in 2013, which made me think everything over again and make even more preparations in case of any possibility I could think of." Slow smile crept on his lips. "I can imagine great many possibilities."

Helena never doubted that.

"For one, I had these cottages built. For you," he looked up.

Helena's breath caught in her throat at raw feelings clearly visible there.

He lay back down, tossing slightly to adjust his spine.

"I had hideouts and bunkers in various parts of Gotham. I had redundancies, stashes, contacts and double agents, all prepared. So when all hell broke loose, quite literally because I was hit with a rocket, there were enough resources to hide me long enough. And my men are fiercely loyal, so they never even thought of betraying me."

There was that spark, steely resolve and a hint of grandeur, the one she saw in full blown flame in the videos from Gotham.

She couldn't let herself forget he was the same man.

"Good for you?" she managed dryly.

He looked up at her again, confused at her sarcasm.

"They were resources that let me live through an injury that would kill most people."

Them and an enemy, who turned out to be a friend, he thought.

Helena kept petting his hair, but her eyes were cold, calculating.

"Why are you here, Bane? You have enough hideouts ready for you, I'm sure."

"I've got no home, no place to think of as a home. And I'm in love with you. Have been for years."

The effect his words had on Helena astonished him.

She frowned, lips setting into a thin, bitter line.

"What do you expect me to say?" she scoffed. "You leave me without a word for years, even after making sure what I think about you, how embarrassingly often I think about you," she laughed mirthlessly, "How I compare every man in my life to you. In every way. God, you goaded me into confiding in you. In Tony the safe friend, the pal who never got too close, the guy who always understood!" Voice rose to a shout she stood up, leaving Bane stranded on the blanket. "And never been there for me in person!"

Angrily she wiped tears from her cheeks, irritated they even were there. She was irate, not sad.

"I made sure you stayed safe and content throughout the years. Doesn't it count for at least something?" he said hotly, straightening up and looking down at her.

"Does it make me indebted to you?" she hissed, raising her chin to challenge him with a stare.

"It makes us connected," he reasoned, calmly now. Hand he stretched towards her hung for a while in the air, after she reflexively shifted away. "At least I thought it did," he finished.

Helena shook her head in denial, biting on her bottom lip.

"I need to think about it all. Sleep on it." She moved to the door. "Will you be here tomorrow?"

Bane nodded.

"Thanks for dinner," she said leaving.

Before she rounded a corner, she caught a glimpse of Bane running fingers through his hair in frustration.

Well, it was a rollercoaster of a night. If she stayed she couldn't keep away from him and that would cloud her mind. She needed to clear head to deal with that situation.

Tomorrow.


	3. Scutum, 2 of 3

**Hello me hearties!**

 **Reviews responds at the end. Sorry I forgot to add them after Aquarius. XD**

 **Below, for your reading pleasure, newest part of "Scutum", enjoy!**

* * *

 _Scutum, or the unexpected reactions of a troubled heart._

 _In which nothing is as it seems at first._

* * *

 **Part 2**

 **The Walk**

* * *

The bed was made after she forced herself to get up and do some chores, shower and dress. Hopping on top of the cover she sat comfortably, preparing to surf the net. To distract herself from tempest raging in her mind since yesterday.

Thoughts coiled in her head all night, simultaneously tightening and releasing pressure over Helena's heart. Bane was alive. He was a short walk away, a distance she could scale anytime she wanted. He came for her, to be with her. It was everything she wanted. More even, since he was silently watching over her through all the years. Vigilant but careful, he never let her feel pressure other than concern of a friend.

All that while he planned to destroy a whole city, after keeping its occupants hostage for few bitter winter months, exposed to elements and cruelty, and oppression. Men, women, children alike.

Death was indiscriminate, but his pragmatism and casual way he talked about it rung discord in Helena's brain. How could one be both loving and murdering? Focused on subtleties of academia and brutally murdering scientists?

She spent unnecessary hours trying to find in her mind arguments against him. Every single one felt hollow. Bane was a child of circumstance he was born into, molded by violence, later excelling in a cutthroat mercenary environment he was an autonomous part of. Tied by honour or sentiment he worked for League of Shadows, destroying and tainting the world… but what was the difference between him and some shady businessman who funded those kinds of operations? Where was he worse from people ordering abductions, assassinations, assaults? How were his sins comparing to presidents ordering their troops to invade foreign countries, supposedly for peace and upholding higher moral values?

Ultimately, Helena knew Bane was at the very least a murderer. Probably objectively could be qualified as mass murderer. She couldn't find in herself an ounce of honest to God fear over that fact. What she needed was an explanation, reasoning, validation.

Above all, she wanted to make sure he was done with his mercenary work for good.

If only he'd spent all those years and resources towards his research. At fifty there was still some time left for him to leave his mark on the world, a different one he had scored already over the years. Maybe he could bridge the gap between his disposition and what the world made him become, maybe he could reconcile merciless machine of destruction with intricate tool of discovery.

After all, many inventions came to life from dusts of war.

Helena was still the most interested in Bane the person. The man behind now non-existent mask.

How would he be without everything he built so far? No people to govern over, no tasks to complete, no places to conquer. Peace and quiet of retirement crushed many men before him. Would he be like Napoleon, a genius tactician reduced to moping around an island he was confined to, no light in his eyes anymore? Would he become gluttonous and complacent?

All she needed to do to find out was simple - let the man do what he wanted.

But damn, he always got his way. This didn't feel right to just let him slide into comfort of a relationship, without a hitch, hindrance, without second thoughts.

She wanted nothing more herself...

Chime announced new email. She wasn't in the least interested in anything but her neighbourhood friendly mercenary, but obsessing over Bane had to stop. And for that she needed distraction. An email would do.

Was it a commission? A friend with news on their kid? A request from LinkedIn? Some horribly disfigured person asking for money for a medical procedure?

No such luck.

'I read your emails.' the message said simply.

Another chime.

'All three hundred sixty four of them. It took a while.'

Helena stared at the screen. Laptop could use some cleaning; the edges were darkened with grime. Fingerprints smudged the dark plane of glass. She focused on them instead of words displayed below.

'One might think you were worried about me.'

"Oh, you fucking dick!" she growled.

'Contrary to what you might have thought, I took care of you to the best of my abilities and possibilities. This land for instance, along with everything on it would be yours in the event of my death. There is a hefty sum to go with it. The notary is obliged to assist you in any legal matter you might encounter.'

'Also, there is the small subject of your concessions. Who do you think gave Herr Schmidt your contact info? '

'Also, there is another plot of land in Italy, and apartment in London. A mansion in Kashmir. Summer houses in Chile, Namibia, Mongolia, and Argentina. House in Louisiana. Pick any if this place doesn't suit your needs.'

'Also, you might want to reconsider your comment about being indebted to me. You're welcome to follow my suggestion as for the interpretation of this whole situation.'

Infuriating. He danced around important subjects, never leaving any information that could link him to his true identity, all the while conscious of Helena's awareness of the double meaning of his words. Playing her knowledge against her.

Closing her eyes to think she exhaled slowly, ignoring pings of notifications coming from the computer. Well, for one Bane did put enormous effort into tricking her. Then again, it was all to make her comfortable and content. He never talked her out of her numerous affairs. Instead, he made sure she was well provided for, either by his own commissions or those of his friends. As control freaks go, he was actually quite caring and generous.

Okay, now he was agitated too. Five messages in span of around five minutes.

Very unlike Bane.

Helena glanced over the emails, more ranting with "also" as a starter, and hit reply on the latest one. If they were to discuss anything it certainly couldn't happen over monitored emails.

'Let's go for a walk. Meet me at mine in five.'

She sent it and closed the laptop. Not wasting time immediately went to put on her boots and warm jacket. She was finishing with laces when Bane appeared on the pathway to her cottage. Well before the time she gave him.

She thought he'd look out of place, the memory of his imposing silhouette from Armenia still etched in her mind, but he was irritatingly casual to a bystander. If not for the scars one could think this was just an ordinary man, past his prime but still fit. Dark jumper with turtleneck hid most of his markings, the sleeves long enough to cover his hands down to base of thumbs. Washed down blue of baggy jeans blended with grey sneakers. The only spot of colour was scarf tossed carelessly around his neck.

Helena could have sworn he magically shrunk over the years. Once she thought he was a giant. Now, as he stood politely by the glass door to the terrace waiting for an invitation in, she saw he couldn't be taller than her latest fling. Which put Bane from realm of fantasy back into cozy normalcy. Unnerving. Dangerous. He was anything but normal, average or ordinary.

She stood up and gestured for him to come in.

"Since it's all yours I don't see why you're sticking to formalities," she observed, sliding her hands into warm jacket. It was still chilly out.

"It's your home. I'd hate to be impolite."

Helena only hummed in wonder. Bane watched as she tucked scarf and hat on, zipped up and put gloves on her hands.

"Are we going far?"

"Don't be so amused. I was always amazed how you'd burn up even in the middle of winter." They went out to the terrace and Helena immediately congratulated herself choice of wardrobe. Despite the sun, cold wind pinched her cheeks with unpleasant gusts. "We might take a turn around the beach?"

Bane nodded and they started, silent for the short walk down to the sea. He followed Helena down wooden steps through budding foliage, across the tarmac and down to the sandy patch by the water. Only then he stepped up a bit to catch up and stroll shoulder to shoulder.

"I like your hair like this," he gestured vaguely towards her messy bun.

"Dishevelled?"

"Long. But the disarray is quite charming too," he admitted.

"Thank you. I like you with your hair on better too."

The weather was nice, even though gale from over the sea tossed their scarves around carelessly.

"You know, I don't think we ever went anywhere together like this. Always either you or I was one step behind, trailing along."

"Technically you're wrong, since I carried you around once or twice. Almost the same."

"I disagree. That's hardly comparable to walking together."

"Perhaps."

"I'm worried, you know." She sighed. Bane waited patiently for a follow-up. "You turn up all of a sudden after all this time and I have to remind myself of everything you are."

"Do you?" He sounded genuinely interested.

"No, I really don't." Helena laughed dryly. "But it feels wrong to just pick everything up and start anew."

"Why?"

"Well, you're a mass murderer. Maybe not exactly, since the bomb exploded safely away from Gotham, but you confirmed yourself you wanted to blow everyone up."

"Does it matter to you?"

Fuck.

"Maybe."

"Helena."

He knew her too well, had her thoughts, intimate and private, on display for him for years.

"How do I even call you now?" she spat angrily, furrowing her brows in impotent frustration.

He only chuckled. "Tony."

Nose wrinkled in comical display of distaste Helena sneered.

"Don't be ridiculous. It doesn't fit you one bit."

"It's my name."

"I get it, your alias should be like a second skin, yadda, yadda…"

"No," he interrupted. "You don't understand. That is my real name."

"It is?"

"Yes."

"But you were born in prison." Like that would be the explanation to everything.

"Every penal institution keeps meticulous records."

"Even ones where people are treated like animals?"

"Yes, even those. I know exact time and date of my birth, names of my parents, my weight, height, and credentials of doctor who cut the umbilical cord. No different from any other person." Looking down at her he snorted inelegantly. "You thought it was all savagery and dirt?"

"It sounded like it."

"Nazis treated people like inferior beings, which didn't stop them from recording every name anyway."

"Point taken. Still, Tony just doesn't suit you."

He chuckled again. "What would then?"

"...Bane."

He laughed.

"But we can't keep using that name, what if someone overhears?" she continued, oblivious to the way he stared at her in amazement. Whether she realized, the decision was made, and she already acted upon it. "I could always try calling you 'babe'. " She winked at him. "Sounds almost the same and is culturally acceptable. Alas," theatrical sigh escaped her, followed by slight shaking of her head, "that would imply a relationship closer than what we have."

"How do you mean?" Bane furrowed his brows again. Maybe she knew exactly where she stood and only played with him?

"Well I don't really know you. I thought once I had you all figured out," rueful smile softened her gaze for a second, when she recalled one conversation they shared, "but in reality I don't know how to reconcile everything I know about you. You're like three different people to me now. Bane the terrorist, Tony the scientist and this unnamed man who said yesterday he loves me."

No, she wasn't sure what she wanted, Bane thought. She was figuring it all out still.

"It's too much, all at once. Two days ago I was mourning your death. Yours and Dorrance's!" She huffed a small scoff. "And now here we are. But enough on that. What did you mean when you said you want me to go away with you?"

"There are people who know your name and your connection to me never was a mystery. I wanted to take you somewhere where we could both have a fresh start."

"But I like it here."

"It would be safer that way."

"You assumed I'd just pack my things and go because you say so?"

"Yes."

"How typical." There was some disappointment in her tone, but she was surprisingly stable otherwise. "How about this. Stay here with me. Let me get to know you. Then we'll see."

The proposal was risky at best. Unwise.

"For how long?" Bane found himself asking to buy some time.

"I don't know. As long as it takes, I guess."

"It's not a game, Helena. "

"I'm not playing games with you… pal."

"Pal?"

"I have to call you something!"

"How about 'mate'?"

"Tsk, tsk, you try to sneak double meaning in there?"

"Never," he winked.

But his smirk faltered into a disappointed scowl.

"I imagined this to be different," he admitted towards the sea.

"Well, it's real."

"It is," he agreed.

No matter what happened next he knew he'd never let her go now. Even if she would keep him perpetually an arm's length away. Just being together like this, walking down the beach, was doing wonders to his battered soul. For the first time in years he felt good. Even despite aches of his body and discomfort the conversation brought along.

The smile he gave her when he turned back threatened to overpower weak March sun. She didn't see it, observing rolling clouds, swimming deep into her own thoughts.

He faltered. That was his mistake in the past. He was too focused on his own musings to take into consideration she had ones of her own. Valid point of view, vector of actions she took. He would do well to listen to her more carefully this time. What he wanted could be different from what she needed...

"How did you get here, anyway? After you've been hit by a rocket back in Gotham."

The reply was automatic, he had other things on his mind, but he was glad she was interested in him still.

"There was a lot of commotion that I missed, since I was unconscious for the most part. I ended up in a bunker, been roughly patched up. Transported around the city to avoid detection, then out with a smuggling tunnel. Spent most of those two months on a vessel at sea." And in a hideout that was tropical mansion in Bahamas. Details, details, details. Helena didn't have to know everything, at least not all at once.

"And you magically healed yourself?"

"No. There was a professional who took care of me."

"So, the League of Shadows just let you go?"

"No."

"Are you going to volunteer any information without me explicitly asking for it?"

"Probably not. It's not who I am."

"Go figure," she chuckled.

Bane resisted an overwhelming urge to gather her close and kiss that sound away. He hadn't had a chance to kiss her yet. How did that omission even happen?

"Okay, so what about your primary occupation then?" she continued, unaware of his inner turmoil.

"I'm an astrophysicist."

"I'm being serious here, friend."

He was taken aback.

"Is it really so hard for you to call me by my name?" Do we have to negotiate everything too? He thought. Do you still want me? Why won't you accept me for who I am now instead of who I was?

"Yes. Now stop evading the question."

Her sincerity put him in his place.

"They thought I was dead, but are probably looking for me."

"Why?"

"They expect me to lead them. Expected. Now they probably want me eliminated."

It came out more bitter than he intended, resentment towards Helena bleeding out into his words.

"Would you stay alive as long as you did, if that was really their objective?"

Bane stopped dead midstride.

"Well, your men are League's men, are they not?"

"They are loyal to me." The argument sounded childish even to his own ears. But he knew that to be true.

"Maybe they just let you retire with dignity." Helena reasoned, offhand remark offering no comfort, only brutal honesty backed by cold logic. That was a hard blow. The realization he might have been let go of consciously, as a courtesy for years of work. As a reward for his sacrifices.

"You could step up and lead them different path, right? But you chose to come here instead."

Action as clear to interpret as a written resignation.

"What happened to the people who cared for you when you were convalescing after Gotham? The ones who smuggled you to safety?"

"They work for the league still, or went into hiding."

He never stopped to think about what happened to them. Some leader he was.

"I still don't understand how you are up and about so fast after major injury."

"That drug I was taking, the one the mask was for. It had many purposes beside the main one. One side effect was vastly improved self-healing ability of my body," he supplied absentmindedly.

He didn't leave them, they abandoned him. A general no longer needed. Broken soldier sent back home to put himself together, too incomplete to be an asset again.

"Cool."

Helena's amused voice brought him back to reality.

Wasn't that what he wanted? To be left alone, to live in peace?

If the League let him go, as she suspected, he had nothing to escape from. He could just stay here.

"Plus I was cared for by the person who concocted it. She is real magician with organic chemistry," he finished his previous thought out loud.

"Isn't magic an undiscovered science?"

"Indeed."

This time he made sure she saw his happy grin. Relief pooled in the pit of his stomach and he started different kind of plotting nearly instantly.

Again, why didn't he kiss her yet?

oOo

Bane stopped at the threshold waiting for Helena to permit him entry. She scoffed and waved him in, aggravated with his attention to formalities.

"Do it one more time and I will legitimately treat you like a vampire. With your accelerated healing and all." She warned half seriously.

"That was Venom. Don't have it anymore." He vaguely gestured around his bare face.

"Oh. Mere mortal like the rest of us puny humans."

"Quite so."

He followed her downstairs to the kitchenette.

"Take a seat," Helena threw over her arm as she busied herself with the stove. There was still enough soup for the two of them, and she could make some grilled cheese to go with it.

Warm chest pressed to her back and two big palms splayed over the counter on each side of her. Bane leaned in to peek over her shoulder.

"What are we having?"

"Chunky tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Do you like them with mustard?"

"I don't know."

"I'll make two kinds then. Fried in butter or baked?"

"You decide."

"Mustard ones will be fried, and I'll make plain baked too, then."

"Sounds good," he rumbled and turned back to sit at the table.

Silence stretching between them was cozy like a blanket, invaded only by sounds of Helena working, heating up pan and oven, layering cheese over toasts and checking on soup back on the stove. Bane just watched her sprawled in the chair like in the old days, listening to her absent-minded humming. Skylight in the corner let some of pale sunlight in, but it hardly reached the counter below and rest of the room. Helena worked under cold spotlight stretching under upper shelves over the working station. The oven emitted warm, yellow light, a counterpoint to almost medical detachment of grey planes of steel shelves with their cold blue of led lamps.

This was it. The feeling of rightness washed over Bane, the familiarity of place and situation, ridiculous since there was nothing he could attach himself to. But he did find himself at home. Sitting in a chair and watching Helena like he did so many times before.

It was right, somewhat. He was complete.

"You make me satisfied. That's why I came here. You make life simple. There is something that's just enough, without much fight, without much arguing. You allow me to just, be," he said, recalling a rant interested same subject years past.

To think she knew what was best for him even back then.

"This is the first time in your life no one expects anything of you," she mused, mulling over his words while she ladled the soup.

Bane only murmured in agreement, waiting for anything more she might add.

Twin bowls clunked softly on wooden plane of the table, followed by plates Helena set gently with a smile.

"Tuck in," she encouraged Bane, sipping soup with a muffled sigh of satisfaction.

"How barbaric," he noted, smiling over bite of toast.

"Cutlery is useful, but not always necessary. This is much better at warming one up after a stroll," she defended herself, glancing coyly over rim of the bowl before she set it finally on the table. "Besides, isn't it nice to wrap your hands around something warm and pretty?"

"I had in mind something else than clay," he smiled. She didn't pick up on frivolous tone he used. Too soon still? "This is my new favourite thing. This soup." He practically inhaled half of it in one go. "If I knew how good you were in the kitchen I would have you cooking along with copying."

"You don't get to joke about that!" She huffed in mock annoyance.

"Why not?"

"I'm supposed to be traumatized over the subject, you know."

"Are you?"

"Not over this one, no." There was enough between them to leave open the possibility of working through myriad other things other than the fact she was abducted and imprisoned. "So, did you have anyone? Over the years?"

Surprised look he sent her was a gem, the unguarded way his lips opened a bit taking off at least a decade of strain off his face.

"There were women," he admitted.

"Anyone long term? "

"No," he furrowed his brows, leaning back in the chair. "You know how difficult it is to meet anyone not professionally interested in my person, in my line of occupation. They were all paid."

Helena nodded with a hum, not in the least put out.

"I expected as much."

"Last one was few years back," he said quietly, munching on his toast, eyes turned down.

It wasn't like him to be embarrassed, so what was it?

"So this is the first time in your life you're allowed to just get to know people, develop healthy relationships, without complications over work."

That wasn't a question. She said it like she only needed him to confirm something she thought about long and hard, before they even started this conversation.

Bane didn't like the look of resolve on her face. Not one bit.

"Where are you going with this?"

"I think we both should give each other ample time and space to work this situation over," she said, a decisive nod punctuating her conclusion.

"Explain."

"Perhaps it is not me you're in love with, but the idea of this life that I lead. The peaceful life you want to have. Perhaps I'm in love with the memory of you, more than the actual person."

He couldn't argue otherwise immediately, which in itself gave him pause.

"What then? How do you want to proceed?"

"We have the basic covered already. Let's get to know each other. You have your cottage, I have mine. I wouldn't mind if you wanted to broaden your circle of friends."

With some effort Helena could pretend she didn't notice how he seethed across her.

"Which reminds me, Grace and Graham will invite me over for Easter, am I allowed to say you're here?"

"Yes," he hissed.

"Would you like to come with?"

"I don't know," His eyes were impassive, but his jaw was set so hard he barely opened it to speak. "My thanks for the meal," he nodded and turned to the stairs.

"Are you gonna sulk because I want to deal with this situation like an adult?"

"Am I allowed to?" He sneered.

"Do what you want. I know I can take care of myself and just live on my own. Can you?"

He turned at the bottom of narrow staircase, straightening up to look down at her. No more a scientist she walked with over past hour.

"Helena, you will do well to remember one simple truth about me. Whatever you or I would like to think, I am not a product of my circumstances. I am a product of my decisions." His voice was quiet, but gravitas of words seeped to her in powerful confident waves, strengthening their message. "And my decisions over past decade proved that not only am I capable of taking care of myself, but also of you, and a very complicated military operation, all at the same time." His eyes narrowed, conducting the anger he felt. "Now for the solitary living, the whole point of me being here was to avoid it. I've been alone most of my life. But I understand your fears. You won't hear from me again, until you ask yourself for my presence." He nodded in farewell. "Goodbye, neighbour."

* * *

 **So, for reviews, I'll go in order of appearance:**

 **Adarya: Aquarius is for you, so no thanks needed. :) Pleasure of writing it was all mine, mwhahahahaha!**

 **Nameless Guest #1: I hope I'm keeping up decent enough work, do tell how you feel about it!**

 **Emmanon: Thank you! I am writing more! I loved "The Scientist" as well! :D**

 **Nameless guest #2: Yeah I did, I can't stop myself once the text is finished. Ask my Beta, she makes fun of me. i was supposed to wait with todays update... But i just couldn't!**

 **Splendiferous7: Yay! I'm so happy anyone is reading that! So excited to get a review! You wouldn't believe how happy i get with that blue email icon!**

 **Kay: I think i get you, girl. there you go. enjoy. Go play with it if ya like. ^_^**


	4. Scutum, 3 of 3

**Hello Lovelies!**

 **So, it is done. :)**

 **Enjoy, don't forget to leave a trace of yourself down below in review window!**

* * *

 _Scutum, Or unexpected reactions of a troubled heart._

 _In which nothing is as it seems at first._

* * *

 **Part 3**

 **The Shock**

* * *

Her gums hurt. Itched like teeth were about to fall out or maybe new ones bud. She drank plenty of water but could barely eat anything.

Nasty, nasty cold.

And she ran out of tissues. Wet ones were finished first, her most precious resource wasted on what turned out to be only the beginning of her drudgery. Three packs of regular were out in a blink, and now she was reduced to wiping her nose with toilet paper. Chamomile scent was pleasant, but it was way too coarse for her abused nose. She had blisters.

Clerk at the clinic barely understood her over the phone with how hoarse she sounded. That, or her Norwegian was worse than she was led to believe. Somehow she secured an appointment with a physician. In the end.

There was no way she could drive with sinuses aching so much her eyes watered from the light. She resigned to the only option left.

'I need help getting to town. Can you come over?'

She sent the email before her mind changed. Well, she was only going to ask a favour. As a friend.

Their last talk still sat bitter in her memory, a reminder that he had his reasons, valid feelings she forgot to take into consideration. So what he didn't know better. If he wanted specifically her, why was she even thinking of pushing him into arms of other women?

It was for the best, she told herself. To spare them both the disappointment of betrayal later on, when the excitement dies down and routine starts crumbling on the edges of their understanding. Maybe Bane would find her insufficient or disgusting in normal, daily life. Maybe she would bore him.

Maybe he would be too dull for her?

Maybe, just maybe, the memory she had of him would be too much of a challenge and even Bane himself won't be enough to satisfy her anymore?

She moaned, frustrated, and punched on the mattress beneath. She couldn't even keep away for more than two days. Who was she kidding? She wanted him, every way she could have him.

Still, there was a part of her that wanted him to be happy too, and that stupid chunk of her heart that wasn't egoistic whispered that maybe he could be happier with someone whole. Untainted by knowledge of who he was before.

But it did sting when he finished his angry tirade with that impersonal 'goodbye, neighbour.' Fuck, did it feel wrong. She was so much more to him.

Was this how he felt when she called him 'pal' and 'friend'? Would it really be so difficult to try and bind his face to Tony she knew from hours of conversations over emails?

Shadows of clouds darkened the ceiling. Even that was too much for her sore eyes.

Hearing sharpened with loss of distractions from sense of sight she picked up steady marching on the pathway. Hurried marching. Eager? Worried? She counted seconds, imagining him on flat steps up, then turning slightly to slide to the entryway without rubbing his shoulders on coarse rock.

A knock.

Oh for the love of… Didn't she explicitly tell him to stop with that nonsense? Fucker didn't know where to stop.

"Come in!" She croaked out.

The door opened tentatively.

"Mrs Wolf?"

That wasn't Bane. She sat up abruptly. Went into a coughing fit that probably sounded like she was about to spit out her lungs.

"Who are you?" she wheezed out eventually. "I was actually waiting for a friend to pick me up, I don't have much time before my visit at the doctors."

"I see. My name is Brown. I'm with Homeland Security." ID flashed briefly, but she didn't need to see it anyway. Even if he really was with the organization.

Helena scoffed.

"Homeland," she practically spat. "Wouldn't it be easier to understand if you said you're with US Government?"

"Perhaps," the man smiled. After all she didn't have any problems with discerning who he was representing. "I was wondering if we could have a talk. When you get better, of course."

"Concerning what?" Helena asked, already knowing the answer.

"Bane."

What else?

"Why would you want to talk with me about a dead man?"

"Missing man," he corrected.

"Why would you want to talk with me about a missing man then?" She asked again, not really caring about the answer.

Would Bane notice a stranger and keep to his cottage? She hoped so. Desperately.

"I think you are a person he might want to contact."

"He didn't through last ten years. I'll let you know if he changes his mind. Leave a card on the stairs please." The dismissal was plain to see.

The man smiled up at her. Didn't move an inch.

"Helena."

Oh no. Bane.

He came through the terrace. Thick scarf peeked out from navy blue jacket, fluffy and green like moss. He had jeans secured in brown chukkas, messenger bag hanging off one shoulder. The very picture of an academic. No one would believe it was the same man who terrorized Gotham just three months prior.

She barely remembered about it herself when he wobbled carefully closer, the pain of every step visible in rigid way he held himself.

"We should go soon," he said. Nodded at Brown. "Tony Dorrance."

"John Brown."

They didn't shake hands.

Helena had another coughing fit, so she didn't catch any parting words the agent might have had. When she caught her breath, he was gone already.

"Shall we?" Bane asked.

So he heard their conversation.

She slid down the stairs, sat at the bottom step to put on her boots.

"Sorry to bother you, but I'm in no state to drive and I have an appointment at the clinic in half an hour. I need some groceries too, if you don't mind."

"My pleasure."

"He will be back," she observed.

Bane only grunted in agreement.

"Others might come too," she added.

"That's possible."

She stood up to put on coat that Bane gallantly held out for her. Then he wrapped scarf securely around her neck. Calloused fingers stroked her skin with every movement under guise of straightening the fabric.

"You sneaky bastard." Helena smiled.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He winked.

She wanted to wrap herself in him and stay at home. Lock the door and install blinds, for no one to interrupt an eternity of lying down doing nothing.

Sneeze crept up on her, an unwelcome reminder she was ill.

Touched in the head, too.

oOo

Drive in and back were done in a blink. Before Helena finished at the doctor's, Bane was waiting in the car with groceries put away neatly in linen bags. How did he manage to buy anything this fast was beyond her, but she was too drained to linger on the subject.

She watched pines and other conifers she couldn't name whizz past in a matted green blur. The experience of going somewhere brought back memories, ones she usually had to keep hidden away.

Not anymore.

"Feels so weird to go away with you without a blindfold on," she mused.

"Easy to amend," he said, sliding up her scarf.

"Keep your eyes on the road," she scolded playfully, pulling the fabric back down.

He stopped the car in his usual spot by his cabin.

"I thought you could bring me a bit closer."

"No need."

"I beg to differ."

"It would be best if you slept at my cottage tonight. For security reasons." He kept looking at the road. "Guest bedroom," added after a brief pause. "It's easier than at your place to get to bathroom and kitchen too."

"Okay."

He smiled. He did that surprisingly often for a terrifying mercenary overlord. Former, she remained herself. Ex terrorist.

It was hard not to smile back.

He showed her the room and Helena wasted no time, dropping face down on the bed. As soon as she hit the mattress she dozed off.

When she awoke later it was already dark outside. Her throat was parched, lips dry as sand and chapped. Sinuses still pulsed with throbbing waves of pain.

"Bane?" she tried, but her voice was barely above a whisper. Fantastic.

Sluggishly, she slid out of the bed. Looked down at herself. She had pajamas on. No bra. Fresh pair of panties. Even though she distinctly remembered falling onto the mattress completely dressed right after they came back.

Arrogant bastard, she thought with a smirk. But, he made her comfortable, and it felt nice. To be cared for.

There was a pitcher of water on bedside table. Some pills and a note. Warm long cardigan waited draped over the dresser, along with woollen socks. Of course, he thought of everything.

Now she needed only to find the bathroom.

Shuffling uncertainly she moved towards the door. Certainly there should be a light switch, but she debated if she really needed one. Skylight in the room provided some bluish shimmer from the moon, and she already knew the house from previous visits with Grace and Graham. Unless Bane changed something drastically, she needed only to go down the corridor and find her way to second door down. She could do it without stabbing her eyes out with surge of brightness.

Entrance to her room was ajar, so she slid out noiselessly. Felt almost like back at the monastery, when she tried to sneak away. Memory of Bane carrying her back to the cell warped and she remember only how nice it was to be close to him, surrounded by taut muscles and his earthy scent.

Was this a murmur behind the door on her right?

She stood listening in. That had to be Bane's bedroom. Was he talking with someone? There was no indication that he had computer on, the floor beneath his door as black as the rest of panels. But maybe he was on his phone. He had to have one.

Right when Helena decided to move forward, there was strangled yelp, a sob, and Bane yelled.

"Talia, don't!"

The anguish was heartbreaking, filling air with echo of fear and sorrow.

He was having a nightmare. The realization rooted Helena to the ground. What was she to do? Was it okay to wake him up? Maybe she just had to hug him, to let his subconscious feel he wasn't alone?

Whatever it was, she had to do something. Anything.

Now that she focused on it, his rapid breathing was audible, distinct in its regularity in the overwhelming silence of the house. Not even swooshing of the sea and surging wind could drown it out. He mumbled something, too quiet for her to understand, words unintelligible or in a language she didn't know.

He was hurting. She didn't want him to feel bad anymore, not even as a penance for all lives he took.

Drawing in a deep breath, she wiped her nose one last time and stepped towards his room.

The floor creaked loudly.

In the same second she jumped with fear, as loud bang reverberated through the corridor.

Heart fluttered rapidly in her ribcage, hammering away with a deafening roar in her ears. Before her, at level with her eyes, a blade was fixed in the door. Blackened sides didn't reflect meager light, but silvery edge glistened dully in a long, serrated, lethal line.

Helena gulped down thick saliva pooling in her mouth. Body rigid with fear she listened on.

It was silent, but she caught a squeak of the bed. Then gentle rustle of sheets and a tired sigh. No more panting, no more whispered or shouted pleas. Bane must have heard the crack and he reacted instinctively, neutralizing the danger. Throwing a knife with such force it lodged up to the hilt in thick wood.

If the door wasn't closed it would pin her to the wall.

Okay. That was a reminder she needed. He was still dangerous, whether he acknowledged it or not. Could hurt her, or kill, without even realizing it.

Back in Armenia he let her sleep beside him, allowed himself rest along her. She never saw him toss or turn, his body always controlled even in the midst of dreams. What happened now had to be a repercussion from the stress of Gotham, before, during and after the siege.

Come to think of it, it was a wonder he didn't suffer anything more than night terrors.

Or did he?

Tentatively, Helena moved back to her room. Bathroom could wait. She had rest of the night to think over what had happened. And how to make it stop.

oOo

She felt like shit. Sleep overcame her somewhere in between worrying about Bane and praying to hold her bladder in check. It wasn't a restful slumber too, her nerves strung tight with memory of a near death experience.

Never a dull day with Bane.

Speaking of the Devil. He was sprawled on the sofa, reading something on computer. Hands kept stroking through skin of his scalp, fingers playing restlessly with short mane of hair on top. As if he couldn't get used to actually having something there, something else than straps of the mask.

"Enjoying freedom?" she asked, walking carefully towards the kitchen behind his back, mindful of stacks of boxes and books around.

Bane only hummed in affirmation.

"What are we gonna do if some CIA or NSA guy comes around asking again?" Voice hitched up and down, she barely understood herself. Fucking cold.

"Nothing."

Water filled kettle with gentle hum, masking her tired sigh. It wasn't mystery that he wasn't simple to be around, but she had no patience left to pick apart every little thing. She needed some clear, fast answers and solutions to calm herself down.

One problem at a time.

Mug of tea in hand she plopped beside him looking out to the sea.

"I saw the crack in your bedroom door."

"It's nothing."

"I was on the other side where you made it," she noted calmly.

That got his attention. He looked at her, no doubt trying to gather every clue as for her standing on the matter. No luck buddy, she thought, I can't breathe through my nose, no way I'm gonna look anything but miserable.

"That won't happen again."

"Damn right, I'm sleeping back at my place as soon as I feel better. And I'm not going to attempt or in fact even think about waking you up if you'll have another nightmare."

"Good."

She scoffed at him. He really thought that was the end of it?

"You're fucking unbelievable. Do you think you're impervious to all human affliction only because you're Bane, the legendary mercenary asshole?"

He probably did. Now he was more focused on her agitation than the fact that her life was at stake because of him. Nothing happened, so no harm done. Helena was far from being at peace with that reasoning.

"You care about me," he noted, looking back to his computer with smug smirk.

"Act like you do now and that will change," she warned. "Unless you'd like to see my bloodied body in the corridor when you wake up. I saw the blade right before me. Your aim is uncanny."

He grew serious then, but Helena felt the urge to hammer the point inelegantly, to let him know how she felt.

"I don't feel safe around you."

Getting up to fix herself something to eat she glanced at him. He was crushed, unseeing eyes still on the screen.

Helena seethed as she ravaged through the fridge, and went back with full plate to sit back beside him. She offered it, and he took a piece of salmon on egg like a peace offering.

"I'm still mad at you," she said around bite of bread she was chewing.

"I'm aware," he mumbled.

"Are you going to get help with your nightmares?"

The movement of his head, sharp but fluid, didn't surprise her. Hurt in his eyes though, did.

"I don't need help."

Like fuck he didn't. She didn't have it in her to argue though. The right was on her side, she had proof in flesh.

"So, are you going to do anything about it yourself?" she inquired.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I'm not going to discuss that."

Helena knew he had to have his reasons. Mainly his history of global terrorism. Still. There were ways to work over that.

"Why not, Bane?" she drilled.

Silence. He glowered at the laptop and stole an apple from her plate.

"You can't deal with it on your own. Even if it doesn't impede your daily life now, it will. Go see a doctor," she insisted.

"No."

He didn't even look at her, engrossed into something on the computer.

"Please go see a specialist." her throat was giving up, and it came out weak and pleading, instead of harsh and demanding as she wanted.

"No."

Clacking of keys was rapid, as he worked, ignoring her.

"Oh, for the love of…" Exasperated, she grasped at straws. "Will you at least let me try something?"

"No."

"It was adorable first two times, now you're just being annoying."

"No."

Oh, so he thought he could just shut her out. After he nearly begged for attention. For a relationship.

"Fine," she said.

Bane missed the look on her face, but he glanced worriedly after her, retreating back to her room.

Like hell she would let him stew in his guilt and fears. Like hell she would let herself be brought along.

oOo

"Helena!"

The shout was angry, loud and succeeded in tensing her muscles. Fantastic. Here she was, taking a well-deserved hot bath before she went back to her simple cottage and he had to go and ruin it.

Good thing she closed the door.

"Open up."

"Whatever it is, you can wait until I'm done," she shouted back.

Really, she was a doll for past week. Took her medicine, ate everything he brought even if she didn't have an appetite for it, entertained him with conversation even while her brain was slowly stewing away.

And now this.

"I picked up your package," he informed, no doubt leaning heavily on the wall just outside the door.

"Thank you."

"Don't you fucking mock me!" Bane shouted.

Sighing, she closed her eyes. So very unlike him to lose control like this. All the more reasons for her to assist him in resolving his problem.

"You didn't want any help. How do you expect me to behave when you're being childish? It's only natural I'll treat you like a child."

Lock snapped, manipulated from outside. Shitty manufacturing. The door opened, slowly, with bone chilling creak. Bane had to be very deliberate to produce it, especially prolonged as it was.

Intimidating Helena was more difficult than that. Especially while she had bigger guns in her arsenal, currently aimed at him. So to speak.

She cracked one eye open to look at him.

"Well?"

Whatever argument he had died on his lips once he saw her, submerged in bath, mounds of thick foam enveloping every visible stretch of her skin.

"I didn't think so," she said, smiling lightly at the look on Bane's face. Stupefied. Who would have thought his weakness would be some water mixed with soap?

"Be nice and at least see what it says on the package. "

Bane shook his head as if he needed to clear it from a haze. And maybe he did, considering their history with baths. And showers.

"Lully Sleep Guardian uses the proven scheduled awakening technique to prevent night terrors," he read out loud, sitting on a chair after he nudged her clothes to the floor.

"Ninety percent success in clinical trials since 1988," she supplied with a sing sang voice.

Bane was already engrossed in a leaflet provided with the device, frowning slightly. He did look like a petulant child.

"What if it doesn't work," he asked, raising his eyes to hers. "What if I'm in that ten percent left?"

"Then we'll try an adult way of dealing with PTSD," she stated. "One that is illegal, but efficient."

"What?"

"Pot."

That made him laugh. He snorted derisively at the end.

"I don't know which is worse," he said.

"You suffering versus some recreational smoking or a vibrator under your mattress? Gee, Bane, and you were supposed to be the intellectual here."

"Stop mocking me."

"Start behaving like yourself. Don't hide the issue, don't run away from problems."

"Oh, you have monopoly on that, don't you?"

"If you say so." She shrugged.

Her indifference infuriated him and he scaled the distance to the bathtub with thumping steps, sitting on the side to lean dangerously over Helena.

"Maybe I need some other outlet to my stress, hmm?" He hissed, calloused fingers gently stroking her cheek and neck. "Maybe I just need a good fuck to settle."

"I don't want to fuck you," she said calmly.

That wasn't even a lie. At this moment he was being difficult and bratty, far removed from anything she wanted to get herself into.

Humiliated, he straightened, lips twisted in bitter scowl.

"Don't forget you came to me before. Of our two, you're the one who can't endure without a good fuck for more than a few months. How long has it been this time? You'll come to me again."

Typical, lashing out when balance of the argument tipped out of his favour. Defensive mechanism as clear as day. Apparently, he forgot Helena had some experience with trauma, and claws of her own.

"How can you be so sure now that I have other viable options on the table? I'm not bound to you, Bane. Neither are you to me. If you want, go and find someone to screw with."

She watched him storm away, leaving the door open, seeping all warmth out.

She plunged into receding foam down to her eyes, nose submerged under the water. Blew a raspberry, bubbles tickling her cheeks.

What a mess.

She never thought it would be easy. Still, some insane part of her brain wanted to just get up and go to him saying 'You have a butt and I have a pair of hands, gosh what a coincidence', and let him ravish her all night long.

Now that the mask was gone? Fuck. What was she doing?

But it would be more damaging to hide everything under the rug. Pretend nothing happened between now and Armenia. They both needed more time.

Maybe she should go away? That would probably be for the best, time for both of them to think rationally and clearly. No aggravating their wounds, old and new alike.

Easter was around the corner, so she could surprise her sister with a holiday visit.

Mulling over everything she took her time drying and dressing, absentmindedly tying a loose knot of the robe. It was high time she went back to her cottage anyway, since the only remnants of her illness were tender throat and slightly runny nose.

Bane was sitting in living area, hunched on the sofa with elbows on his knees.

"I'm packing my things and going back tonight."

"Indeed?"

If she didn't know better, Helena might be tempted to think he was glad she would be gone. What an awful thought.

Before she gathered herself enough to say anything more, he straightened and leaned back craning his neck on the backrest.

Damn. That part of him was always her weakness. Inexplicably, it was still smooth and strong, a trademark of masculinity, with adam's apple bobbing slightly when Bane swallowed.

Only after few seconds she noticed tears silently rolling down to hide in hair at his temples.

"I'm sorry. I don't know how to do this. Don't leave me to figure it out without you."

How was she supposed to go now?

Sofa creaked when she sat beside him on folded legs. Bane turned his head to look at her.

"Why are you smiling?"

"We're both idiots," she stated. He frowned.

Why was she building artificial walls between them instead of focusing on getting rid of those that already existed?

"I'm not abandoning you. I will stay for two nights more, but only if you promise to try Lully out. "

"Agreed." That was too fast, but Helena was far from done. Her eyes strayed to his neck again. How in hell did he avoid getting burns there?

"Good. I'll need you to remove any weapons you might have in easy reach around your bed, too."

"I can't do it." He tensed, and to prevent him from straightening up she threaded her hand through his hair.

"Yes you can, and you will." Fingers playing with short strands she watched him settle gradually under her touch. "Ask something in return and it will be a trade, not surrender."

Voicing it out loud was risky tactic, but she needed him to understand he wasn't as secretive as he probably thought.

"Sleep with me." Immediate, without thinking about it. Breath hitched slightly in her throat. Oh yes, yes please! she wanted to shout.

Instead, nagging demon of reason forced her to say,

"That would defeat the whole purpose of my stay."

"Kiss me." Again, without a shred of indecision.

Hesitation written on her face resulted in Bane straightening back, disappointed scowl twisting scars marring his cheek and jaw.

"Why can't we take thing slow and stay at being friends for now?" She tried to reason, twisting slightly to face him better. It was an argument both for him and her… One she wasn't sure she had a good answer to anymore.

"Because I love you and…" He trailed off. His eyes were turned down, focused on something with troubling intensity. "No, you're right. Friends is fine."

Helena narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Really?"

She didn't see his hand sneaking behind her, but felt it splaying possessively on her lower back. Bane slid her closer, twisting his head to bring his lips to hers.

"Friends with benefits. It's a thing, isn't it?"

Arrogant fucker.

His skin touched hers, an electric tease, raising fine hair at the back of her neck. Warm breath ghosted over her cheek. Unoccupied hand sneaked under the robe, lapels so far apart he barely had to nudge the fabric away.

So that what he was looking at; ogling her tits, while she was battling between keeping his psyche while and her own needs in check.

She lost it when he started worrying his lower lip, sucking it gently between his teeth.

Both palms splayed on each side of his head she forced him to close the distance. Ten years and all that teasing, the dilemma over his well-being and hers… Even a saint wouldn't be able to resist that sinful mouth just mere millimeters away. So she licked in between the seam of his lips, moaning with exquisite pleasure of finally fulfilling desire she was coveting since she first saw him on an unnamed road somewhere in the mountains.

Thin robe she had on practically slipped open itself, the tie already loosened enough for Bane to move his hands to her hips, hauling her to his lap with a laugh.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked between kisses, in precious few seconds when Helena had to move back a bit to bunch up his shirt.

"Don't you fucking mock me," she growled.

Laughing again, he cradled her close, hiding her head in the nook between his neck and shoulder.

"I gather you're not opposed to benefiting from our friendship this way?"

Delivery of his taunt came out breathless, because Helena was in the middle of nipping and licking her way up the side of his neck. She stopped by his ear, mauled and cut, but still sensitive from years of being safely tucked away behind straps of mask.

"I will deal with your later," she warned. "I will teach you to be considerate, and respectful, and mindful of people that want to take good care of you."

"Why later?"

She straightened, looking down at him, beautiful in her seriousness, smoldering need reddening her cheeks and glinting with heat in her eyes.

"Now I want to sample if those benefits of yours are worth the hassle."

Bane grinned, the challenge as welcome as relief it promised. He pressed her insistently back to his hips, letting her know that the benefit was quite ready, and indeed ripe for the taking.

Someone knocked on the door.

Their eyes met in mutual agreement. Fuck whoever was outside. Hide.

Bane stood up, keeping Helena nestled in front of him. Two steps towards the bedroom and he grunted, spine complaining over unexpected weight it had to carry. He masked it with a kiss, and rested for a second, pressing Helena to the corridor wall. That was a first.

Knocks echoed again, insistent.

Before he could start towards the bed, their hideout, someone shouted through the door.

Helena shifted, at once alert.

"I think it's Grace."

"I think I don't give a flying fuck," he retorted, distracting her with another kiss. He ended up distracting himself as well.

"Well, well, well," came from behind them. "The ever elusive doctor Dorrance. You both make yourself decent and meet me in the living room. I'll make tea."

"Hi Grace," Helena waved meekly one hand that was gripping Banes shoulder. To him she whispered "Better listen, she's scarier than you when she has to wait."

The mood was killed anyway. Might as well try and behave like a civilized being towards the intruder, Bane thought with a sigh.

He had some questions he wanted answered, and knew Helena wouldn't squeal on topics he was the most interested in.

"All in good time," he mumbled to the scribe, letting her go gently at the entrance to her room.

Yes, she won't dare escaping him again.

* * *

 **And here I am, still unsure how Bane should be called now...**

 **R &R!**


	5. Sculptor, 1 of 5

**So, I can't keep away. Yeah, you might have noticed.**

 **My idea with this series is one installment per month, no matter if pre or post Gotham.  
** **"Scutum" was spanning March 15th through to March 18th; this one starts where we left off. Next chapter will be set around Easter. It's still April, so it counts, right? :D**

 **Well, here it is, I hope you enjoy.  
** **R &R!**

 **(Review responses at the end)**

* * *

 _Sculptor, or shaping the future one day at a time._

 _In which a seed is planted and it takes root._

* * *

 **Part 1**

 **The Seed**

* * *

Bane returned to the living room right after disposing of Helena. He slipped on a shirt, tossed carelessly on the floor minutes before, and wordlessly helped Grace transfer pot of tea and cups to the coffee table. She found some cookies and arranged them neatly on a plate.

"You don't look like a scientist," she noted, taking a seat on the other sofa and helping herself to a biscuit.

Bane poured the tea, indicating with his hands and eyes the usual questions, whether to add milk or sugar, and handed the woman her drink.

"Are you really an astrophysicist?" she continued, after nodding her thanks and taking a sip.

"Yes," he grunted. Muscles in his back were still unusually tensed, sore around his lower vertebrae. He'd have to check what that was about. For now he focused on schooling his expression in polite disinterest, and took a swig of his drink. Mmm, earl grey. Soothing.

"Do you have any publications under your name?" Grace continued to drill.

He smiled, knowing exactly where she was going.

"Of course."

"Did you write them yourself?"

"Yes. They have been reviewed by multiple peers."

"You have a lot of scars for a scholar."

"Do they bother you?"

"How did you get those burns?"

"I was in Gotham."

"You have a knack for answering questions without parting with any valuable information."

"Perhaps."

"Tell me, Anthony, what kind of scientist has motion detectors in double perimeter around his house?"

"A careful one. What kind of old lady knows how to disable them?"

"A nosy one." She smiled, smug.

Bane sipped his tea.

"I'll keep my eye on you."

He shrugged and looked to the side - Helena gathered herself enough to come to them. His eyes softened when they met her worried gaze. He knew he would be watched, scrutinized and tracked down, and all of that by people more dangerous than a retiree. He could live with whatever investigation Grace had coming. As long as Helena would be close, he would be fine. Even if close for now meant at the other side of the table, sitting on a rug of all places, like she needed to have both of them under her watchful gaze.

"So, Grace, what the fuck?" the younger woman asked, sliding the last empty cup to herself and dismissing Bane's help with a wave of her palm. She poured the tea, frowning, splashing hot liquid on the saucer.

"Language, darling."

She chuffed at the chastisement and shook her head. Two cubes of sugar splashed into the cup, and she stirred angrily.

Bane thought she looked cute when irritated. It wasn't the cold rage he was used to, nor the distant resentment he remembered. She was irked but calm. Interesting.

"Don't you language me, what was that about?"

"I was worried about you."

"Uh huh. You might have noticed somewhere in past few years that I actually live next door. Perhaps during the time you used to live in this very cottage?" The 'used to' part was stressed, with semi-threatening lean on the table towards the woman to heighten the effect.

"Darling, I was playing bridge-" Grace started, the blasé tone way different than the quick and sharp one she used to ask Bane her questions earlier.

He wondered what her agenda was . And why it seemed like he'd have to peel some layers to get to the bottom of it.

Helena groaned painfully, thumped her forehead on the table. Bane barely had time to move up and away his cup to avoid spillage.

"Are there no more physicians who respect patient confidentiality?" The scribe moaned, shoulders slumping for a bit.

"Sven asked me how you brave your cold. Imagine my surprise." To anyone else Grace looked like personification of sage aunt, careful about her little niece and mindful of her image. Bane noticed the studied way in which she arched her brow, a touch of distaste in her tone. Yup, like that fairy godmother from 'Sleeping Beauty'. The red one. What was her name?

Helena raised her head to rest it on her palm, elbow propped up on the table. Inelegant, but cute. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"I imagine you left poor Graham with the dishes as soon as everyone left and trotted here asap."

Grace had the decency to blush.

"I knew it." Satisfied scoff was accompanied by a triumphant glare as Helena straightened back to take a swig of her drink.

"I just put two and two together. You let me know that Dorrance is here. Then fall silent for a week and I learned from Anna some man drove you around town. And now Sven says you were unwell. Of course I was worried."

"Of course," Bane echoed, sipping another gulp.

They both turned to him, glaring. Maybe he overdid it this time with the mocking.

"Okay, so I'm fine and I'm sure you saw that before you decided to interrupt our little tete-a-tete. Why come in for a chat?"

Bane grinned. That was the woman he knew and remembered. Even when faced with a situation potentially dangerous, or as it was now embarrassing, she never stopped analyzing its components. Why, who, when?

Refreshing his drink, and Grace's, he eagerly waited for the following explanation.

"Don't pull the wool over my eyes, missy. All this years you pretended to be just friends, and now this?" She waved her hand towards Bane. "Your generation is certainly generous with affection, I can tell you that."

He bit his cheek not to laugh. Good tactic, deflecting the attack with a blow of her own.

"We were just friends," Helena grumbled.

"And now we're friends with benefits," Bane added. "The modern way to do things." His eyes sent a clear message. He was sure the woman got it when she pressed her lips tightly together in reaction.

"Yes, you're very modern," Grace snorted. "Do you hide tattoos in there, along with all those scars? Writing your thesis with help of some weed?"

"None of your concern," he stated blandly.

"Grace, please." Outrage clear on her face as well as in her tone Helena frowned again. "That is quite enough."

"Yes, darling, it is. I can see I'm not welcome here." Her chin raised in a dignified pose. She placed the saucer back on the table, cup clinking softly, and stood up royally.

Both Bane and Helena followed.

"I will be the bigger person though and still do what I intended to when I came by," she continued. "You are both very welcome at Graham's and mine table for Easter."

"Thanks," Helena nodded, biting her lip.

Bane had a feeling Grace knew it wasn't a happy offer for him. Difficult to refuse, seeing how the scribe was obviously intended to take it.

"Goodbye then, don't do anything I wouldn't do."

She left with a satisfied smirk.

Okay, maybe she wasn't Flora, the red fairy. Maleficent suited her better.

As soon as her back cleared the corner, Helena chuckled.

"I know she's weird, but she's a good soul," she explained.

"She doesn't strike me as the friendliest of types," Bane noted.

He collected the dishes, and Helena took what he didn't manage to grab, followed him to the kitchen.

"Grace is nice, but you're right. She can be a bit idealistic in her views so when the reality doesn't fit, she bristles. Her husband is the soul of a party, and he's the one who gathers local bigwigs for their bridge and other playdates."

"You've ever been?" he asked, loading the dishwasher.

"Sure, once or twice. Too many people, I prefer visiting when there's only the two of them, or three more friends at most. Sunday roast sit-downs, mostly."

"Hmm," he grunted, swiping a dishcloth over the counter.

Helena looked back to the coffee table, checking if everything was in order. The memory of kiss on the sofa warmed her cheeks. That was more than nice. Feeling Bane between her legs was better than anything she experienced in the past few months, and he didn't really have a chance to actually get to work. He had full reign of his body now, so they could finally have proper, dirty, sweaty and sticky sex in the light of day, with full use of every orifice they wanted to abuse.

She nearly moaned at the thought.

It was so foolish though, to entice him when she knew he was far from okay.

Best thing to do would be ensuring he was stable, as soon as humanly possible. Which she hoped would be a record time since Bane excelled seemingly at everything he touched. Why would recovery be any different?

"Would you like to set up Lully?" She offered, turning with her hands resting comfortably on her hips. Open enough, but confident instead of meek.

"Of course." Bane leered.

That would bring Helena to his bedroom. She was aware of his train of thought.

"Don't get any ideas. You go do it yourself. I'm going back to mine to see if the cottage still stands. I shall return in the evening," she professed playfully, but steadily.

A clear message. Don't follow, find something to do. I won't leave for long.

"I'll make some dinner," he offered gruffly.

She was surprised, but easily smiled after initial pause.

"Great. Looking forward to it."

oOo

Helena woke up to the sound of a gardening show, soothing voice of Monty Don instructing what to do when carrot fly attacks. Fearsome prospect that it was, she calmly drew in a deep breath and straightened a bit on the sofa. Bane was at her side, looking lost in thought, cradling her to his chest. She let herself cuddle back closer than before, and wallowed in the heat and scent of him.

Dinner was lavish and plentiful, and she drank a bit too much wine. That was the only reason she let Bane get this close. Maybe also the fact he agreed to watch some shows she liked. All was right in the world, nothing pressing to do, nothing important to address. She looked at the screen idly as stills of summer garden flicked on and off.

"You want to go back to your room for the night?"

She sighed into his flank, reluctantly shifting and straightening.

"I should, yeah," she said, the last word distorted with a yawn.

"I'll call in James to escort you."

In a blink she was wide awake. Trying to hide her alarm she didn't move, observed him in the window. The reflection was blurry but his broad frame easily discernible illuminated by faint glow of the computer.

"Okay," she said tentatively, waiting for his next move.

Bane stood up, grunting as his spine complained, leaning palms on his thighs. He went to the glass door and stilled.

"James is not here, isn't he?"

"I don't know where he is," Helena confirmed, unsure what Bane meant by 'here' exactly.

She frowned, concerned, and watched as his back tensed.

"I thought we were back in Gotham," he admitted.

"Where are we now?"

"Home."

Finally she decided to stand up and scale the gap between them. The fireplace was as dark as the rest of the room, but coals radiated warmth still. She shivered as she left the comfort of nearby sofa to stand by the cold glass alongside Bane. Carefully, she slithered her hand in his palm. A non-threatening, reassuring gesture. He squeezed back gently without a word. Helena still wasn't certain he was with her, but she didn't dare pressing him further. Since she wasn't with him during the siege he might have thought she was Talia. Or some other woman. Finding that out wasn't on top of her priority list right now.

"We should go to sleep," he said, a dejected tone in his whisper.

Helena realized he avoided rest for the past two days. Since his episode with the knife.

"You want to take a shower first?"

"Not really," he countered, shaking his head. "You won't sleep with me?"

"Not this time. But I can sit by until you fall asleep," she proposed.

"Don't treat me like a child, Helena," he sneered.

Relief made her smile sheepishly. Anger she could work with. It was the mute, low-spirited Bane she didn't know what to do about.

"I'm not. I can assure you I will be portraying you naked under those sheets. Wouldn't do that to a kid," she teased.

He chuckled lowly, appreciating her effort at lightening the mood.

"You had me fooled with your past flings." He winked. "And I thought you remembered I prefer to sleep nude."

"Ha, ha, very funny."

They walked down the corridor together, silencing Monty Don's rant about tomatoes on their way with Bane thudding the laptop shut. Helena stopped just before his door, and let herself be pulled close in a tight hug.

"See you in the morning," she mumbled in Bane's shoulder, fighting with herself to disengage and move back.

He stopped her, strong arms keeping her close. Not insistently, but firmly enough to counteract her motion. Soft kiss on her temple had her melting back into him, huffing a soft moan. She didn't have enough courage to vocalize everything she felt. Wasn't cruel enough to tell him she loved him, then go away to sleep in the other room. But the understanding between them grew, both of them reluctant to part.

In the end Bane's chest heaved with last intake of breath, making her smile as she heard him sniffing her hair, and he sighed.

"Goodnight, Helena."

oOo

She heard him toss and turn, rustle of sheets and muted creaks of bedframe as telling as his frustrated grunts. He didn't sleep, and she was trying to wait him out, but it was harder and harder as minutes trickled by, the hum of gale comforting despite anxiousness simmering in her gut. To stay awake read every piece of news on the sites she frequented, found a romance novel online, and even tried browsing for some movies. None of that held her interest for longer than half an hour.

She tried to recount the instances she could be sure he slept, from the day he came, up until now. The calculation was disturbing. On the first night, right after their talk, he probably caught couple of hours at best, since he read through all those messages she sent to Tony. To him. Then two nights she couldn't be sure about. Then the one where she was here, the one with the knife. He slept, but she was sure he didn't get much rest. Then on Sunday he had a proper deep sleep, she spent most of the night listening in on him, much as she did now, so she was sure. On Tuesday morning she remembered him miraculously tidying up all books in the living area - he must have started deep into the night. Wednesday and Thursday she slept deeply so didn't have a clue, but Friday she was sure he didn't rest at all because he made bread. The wonderful smell actually woke her up much to her surprise and delight; it meant not only a delicious breakfast waiting for her, but also that her sinuses were finally clear. Saturday again unsure, but since that was the day Grace came, Bane was agitated for the rest of the night. And finally yesterday, when she was positive he stayed up with his research. All in all, she was certain he didn't sleep for half of the nights she counted, and was uncertain about the rest but one, so that didn't help to settle her mind at ease.

He must have been exhausted, and she kept rejecting him, challenging him every step of the way, making him prove he wanted to be here, with her.

Realizing she had essentially been a bitch to him, she reached out for her phone and quickly checked a fact she half remembered. Thanks to the internet she had her confirmation in mere minutes.

With a decisive huff she got up to dress. The noise she made was deliberate. In a quiet minute when she sat down to shake sleep off and calm herself, her ears strained to catch any sounds coming from Bane's bedroom. Nothing. She smirked. So he listened to her as well.

Making a show of waving a hand through the gap in ajar door she alerted him to her presence outside.

"I'm up," he said.

She opened the door but stood on the threshold, holding the handle. Partly to do something with her hands, partly to stop herself from going to him and snuggling close.

"Gathered as much." She gulped, losing her thread of thought. He was bare chested, thin sheet low on his hips, sprawled comfortably in the middle of white linens, propped up a bit on the headboard. Smug smirk twisted his lips.

Those lips. She kissed them not two days ago.

"You were saying?"

"Oh, right," she murmured. "I'm going to my cottage."

His smile vanished.

"Can't stand listening to your tossing, and I have a nice herbal tea back there. Would you like to tag along?"

He nodded and she wasted no time in turning away and walking slowly to the living room, lest she saw too much and wouldn't be able to leave at all.

Bane didn't keep her waiting long, and they set into the night, dark, cold and damp, walking in companionable silence down a rocky path.

"New Moon coming or going?" she asked, opening her door.

"Coming. Should be next week."

Wooden steps muffled sound of their boots when they descended to the kitchen area.

"What are you working on when you think I don't look?"

"My memoirs."

Helena chuckled, looking for the box with tea, while Bane put on the kettle. She chucked the bags into mugs and stood by, hip propped on the counter, waiting.

Bane leaned his hands on the wood beside her, bending his head and stretching his spine.

"I'd like you to get that looked at," she said.

"Would you come with me?"

She thought about it. Was it really to his advantage if she coddled him every step of the way? Should she accommodate his wishes, or was it better to make him deal with everything on his own?

Before she realized the silence stretched for too long.

"Never mind," he huffed, straightening back up.

The kettle whistled, and he turned the heat off and poured the water.

"What's in that tea?"

"Lemon balm, chamomile, hops, mint, passiflora and lemongrass," she read.

"Comprehensive blend," he noted.

Steam billowed under cold clinical light, the mugs a deep indigo, framed at the top with burnt sienna corresponding to the oak of the tabletop. Helena watched them for a while, aware that she was observed in turn.

"Let's make a fire, hmm?"

Bane nodded and started up to get to the back terrace and the fire pit, leaving her to gather both mugs and then collect some blankets and pillows to make a comfortable nest by the fire. By the time she was done with her task, Bane has completed his. He made last corrections to a neat bonfire raised up on rusted planes of steel, then turned to sit on a chair, cushioned and covered. Let Helena fuss over him, tucking warm wool wherever she saw fit, before she handed him his mug.

"Thank you," he said, looking in the flames.

Last time he spent a night like this he was on a beach with Talia, watching summer spectacle of a meteor shower unfold over their heads.

"You're very welcome," the scribe said, smiling pleasantly over her tea.

"For bringing me out of there," he clarified. "I appreciate it. In fact, I appreciate everything you're trying to do," he admitted looking her straight in the eye.

"I'm sorry I've been unpleasant."

Bane shook his head, but she silenced him with a frown.

"No, really. I want to be with you. It's just… You keep telling me to come to you. You have to give me room to make at least one step then." She reasoned. "I don't want you anymore hurt than you are. And that will happen if you have another fit while sleeping, if I'll be in bed with you and you'll see me as some ghost from your past."

Her words were merciless, but she knew he could see what was the reason for them. No matter what he was before, she was with him now.

"So, no sex until I'm healed?" He was bad at hiding his disappointment.

"No sleeping together," she corrected. It would be too harsh to shut that door completely. On both of them. Especially with the way he perked up. "But for now, I'd like you to settle and find a comfortable schedule, without a disruption some good, um, exercise would bring."

He hummed, mulling over her words.

"That sounds reasonable."

"Also, I've noticed that if an episode happens it's around one or two in the morning. We could program Lully and give it a week to see if it helps. But you need a regular sleeping pattern for that to work."

"Mhm."

They finished tea and kept staring at the flames, Bane occasionally getting up to feed them.

Helena fought to keep her eyes open.

At one point she dozed off. Cold wind sneaked under blanket, the fabric slipping out of her fingers when she slouched in her chair. Her head fell back too far and she startled, aware that she was being carried, but too cozy to really do anything. Bane was murmuring something softly, shifting her in his arms. She focused on the cadence of his voice, deep rumble going through his chest and the warmth surrounding her.

* * *

 **Review responses here:**

 **Adarya, Hello my dear, so happy to hear from you again! Missed you too. :) I was so hyped after reading your reviews I got right on to writing the follow-up. And here it is!  
Did you get around to reading the last part of "Scutum"? Did you like it? Do you want me to write anything more for you? I have this other piece from "November batch", when they were in Armenia, it's on the back burner for now. Say a word and I'll get right to it. :D**

 **Esperanza, thanks for dropping by. Delighted you enjoyed the dialogue, I was actually anxious about it.**  
 **Homeland Sec. will make a comeback. Friends will appear. I'm so, so very glad you liked it despite the wait. :)**

 **Lantern3, Why you're most certainly welcome. I write to please. Who here haven't obsessed over a fic (or ten)? You have nothing to feel embarrassed about. Unless you'll imagine the way I blush and smile reading about it.**  
 **The almond scent is mostly a reference to characters I tend to use in my writings, to familiarize myself better with them, to build them in my imagination. The OC from "Taboo" fic smells of irises (fashionable during early XIX century, and pleasant natural fragrance); the one from "Thief" have aroma of peaches (that will play a role in second part, if I ever get to write that); and Helena has almonds, because believe it or not, I do know someone who kind of smells like almond and cherry pastry. Weird, but true.**  
 **Even though bitter and sweet almonds are nearly identical, I never meant for Helena to have this profound shadow looming after her, in the idea that it was all a metaphor for bringing life; it's too big. If anything, she's a killer, so she should smell of cyanide not sweet almonds...**

 **Splendiferous7, how nice to see you again! Helena is more stubborn than smart in my mind. Which is why I'm still debating how she will call him. "Babe" was an idea of my phone. It kept correcting me, when I wrote "The Scientist", and it is kind of interesting to have this great, big, brutish looking, grunting and snarling beast of a man... and call him Babe. Like in Iliza Schlesinger piece ("Freezing Hot", do watch!).**  
 **Great news about Tom Hardy. Although, Bane doesn't necessarily have to look like him. Just sayin'. ;)**


	6. Sculptor, 2 of 5

**Lately I'm devastated with how brilliant other people are. Sorry for uncharacteristically late update. I'm a bit down lately, and this chapter is not what it could be if I felt better, but I've been sitting on it way too long as it is. Well, here it is, I hope you enjoy.**

 **R &R!**

 **(Review responses at the end)**

* * *

 _Sculptor, or shaping the future one day at a time._

 _In which the sapling turns out to be something different than what was planted._

* * *

 **Part 2**

 **The Weed**

* * *

Bane sighed, releasing a thick cloud of vapour, feeling the tension escape him further along with air leaving his lungs.

Aware that the ritual was as important to him as the drug, he took care now to find half an hour both before and after sleep. Helena welcomed the brackets he imposed on their activities, easily swallowing his explanation. Meditation. Wasn't a lie, not technically, since he did that, too. Only, after a session he took out a small vaporizer and a vial of green oil he got from Dr Isley and imbibed. THC did work on him, to his quiet astonishment. Not wonders, even though the essence was from some novelty variety crossbred by the botanist; nothing could compare with the instant thunderous impact of Venom. Nevertheless it helped him chill and dulled some of his aches to a point he believed he behaved like a normal guy. Regular Frank, not looking over his shoulder at every louder sound, not jumping at unfamiliar shadows, not lashing out at strangers visiting his property uninvited.

He thought he could live without it, without the scheduled regularity, but then the episode with the knife happened. So he kept on taking two, sometimes three doses every day.

Helena's suggestion that he should start smoking marijuana delighted him. His prim and proper scribe ready to break the rules for him. Only for him. Always, for him.

With each passing day he was more and more besotted with her.

To his dismay, it didn't help settle him in his sleep. And she saw him that night when reality shifted, the fabric of time overlapping so that he was at the same time back in the condo in Gotham, with Talia sullenly complaining about Wayne, and yet aware that the body beside him was Helena's, so his mind made a connection telling him he must have been at the Armenian compound. She surprised him again that night, twice. First with how calm she reacted, letting him gently fall away from the mirage his mind conjured. And then later, when she took him out and away from fruitless and frustrating tossing and turning on the bed. Once again she was attuned to him, fitting in his cracks and crevices, filling out inadequacies, tempering sharp points and overeager tendencies. With a start he realized she led him and he followed gladly, a revelation at once baffling and oddly satisfying. Maybe leading wasn't the best word, he thought smirking and inhaling deep the vapour, guiding seemed much more suitable. Helena herself insisted on them walking side by side, even if she was the one who set the destination. He still had ample opportunity to discuss the path, chart the course together and pick the tempo; if he wanted. She was his compass and at the same time the azymuth he followed. Ultimately it boiled down to the fact he wanted to be wherever she was, whether on the move or rooted to the ground.

oOo

Much like back at the monastery they quickly developed a comfortable routine. Both slept in their respective beds, but the days were spent intermittently together, either on mornings or evenings. Sometimes Helena would sleep over at Bane's.

She still couldn't bring herself to call him by his real name.

Schedule cemented after a week, when the first signs of true comfort began seeping into their interactions. A tender kiss on the neck. Cuddling on the sofa. Soft palm running over shoulders in passing. Warm smiles from over a book, or a plate, or when Bane pummelled Helena's King on the chessboard, yet again winning the round in three moves.

All of this was very well. But the device she bought for him didn't do its job. Bane still had nightmares. Sometimes he'd tell her himself, sometimes she saw that in the way he rubbed his jaw or stretched his neck.

She worried.

Getting him to use Lully was more to see if he'd be receptive to her help, but there was hope at the back of her head that it would be enough. Silly thought. He needed therapy.

On top of all that he never mentioned if he had hallucinations again. Asking would be too much on Helena's nerves, so she settled on letting him deal with that on his own. For now. Until she'd be less scared of who he saw her as.

Now she was facing another gruesome task, namely preparing him for another type of trauma. Easter brunch loomed a bit over a week away. She knew some other people would attend and Bane agreed to go, much to her amazement. Gathering intel, he said. Didn't want to specify on what.

Again, she worried.

Exercise seemed to be the best medicine, so she decided it was high time to roll up her sleeves, literally, and get to work on a vegetable patch and herb garden she wanted to plant.

What she forgot to take into consideration was the fact that the soil she tried to turn was hardly moved in last fifty years. It was nearly as hard and dense as the rocks around. She worked up a nice sweat and her lungs burned with the exertion, and what she had to show for it? A tiny tiny square of ground, filled with rocks, sandy underneath and dry overall.

Maybe she should just keep her plants in pots? That would give her cottage a Mediterranean look. Could be nice.

She stood by her terrace, hands propped up on the shovel, looking down miserably, contemplating her options.

That's how Bane saw her.

"Your turn to make dinner tonight," he said as a greeting.

Shit, she forgot.

"Shit, I forgot," she admitted. "I'm battling the elements in hope of cultivating this godforsaken land, but as you can see it's all a rather pitiful attempt at trying to tame nature."

He chuckled and took the shovel, exchanging it for a teacloth bundle he brought along.

"What's that?"

"Bread." He looked around. "How far you want to go with your renovation?"

"Up to that damson tree, and like this." She stepped through the grass to show him the shape she wanted to achieve and how far it stretched. "Just turn the soil over, I'll have to work in fertilizer anyway, so it doesn't have to be very deep."

"Aren't you supposed to do that before April?"

"I had other concerns in early spring."

"Right. Off you go," he shooed her away.

She pecked his cheek quickly before she went, humming even before she crossed the threshold.

They went grocery shopping the day before, so she decided what to cook as she trotted down the stairs. The bread Bane made was a luscious, crusty loaf, very rustic. She decided it would be best to offset it with a nice stew, creamy and warm. The perfect hearty meal after some honest work.

Fond smile crept up on her lips as she cut chicken thighs, then carrots, broccoli, potatoes and onions. From time to time she looked up, trying to catch a glimpse of Bane in the skylight. When she sautéed meat with onions in the crockpot in heaping helping of butter, he leaned his head down over the window.

"It smells delicious," he mouthed through the glass.

Helena giggled and beamed up at him.

Soon she was adding vegetables and some broth from her freezer. At the top she carefully placed some fresh bay leaves, snipped right off the plant that was standing on the counter. Just like Julia Child. The downtime she had before making roux was perfect opportunity to pick parsley leaves off the stalk and set the table.

Bane came down when she was stirring the stew, smell of nutmeg sharp in the air.

"Are your hands clean?" she asked, turning to look at him.

They weren't, and the rest of him was just as filthy. He took off his outer wear and must have worked only in jeans and long sleeve henley, perspiration clearly visible along with streaks of mud and some green stains.

"Still like me sweaty and dirty?" he teased.

Helena turned off the stove without looking.

"Oh I don't know, you're not covered in blood and gunpowder," she said, dared him further with a tantalizing sucking on her lower lip. "I guess we'll have to find out, won't we?"

Glued to the spot he nevertheless excluded an air of confidence. She couldn't resist him like this, chest puffed out, hands fisted at his sides, shoulders tightly pulled back. He watched her like a hawk when she neared him carefully, one step after another.

She stopped just outside his reach, marvelling at the way quickened breath escaped his nose in short angry puffs.

"Do it. Take the last step," he tempted, deep voice husky with need.

This was a bad idea.

Her eyes measured him one last time, from feet to the top of his head.

This was a very bad idea.

Her mouth touched his neck first. Barely a second after, he gripped her hips and her hands found his flanks. A hiss escaped Bane's mouth, pained and short, when he felt her tongue track a slick trail up to his ear. Reflexively his fingers dug into soft flesh beneath, thumbs hooking at hipbones, easy to find under thin skin. He rocked towards her, once then twice, and rubbed cheek scratchy with stubble on her delicate one. Blindly he found her lips, parted in welcome, eager to taste more of him.

Helena watched him keenly, finally able to see his face with a satisfied, blissful smile. He was beautiful. The scars marring his jaw were like a relief, an organic pattern designed to bring out perfect symmetry of subject underneath. Mutely telling stories of cruelty, bravery and survival.

Their lips met again in a gentle stroke, teasing the nerve endings with back and forth touch that was far from enough.

He threaded fingers through her hair, freeing them from the elastic, individual strands catching lightly on callouses of his hand.

"Tell me you want this," Bane whispered, stormy eyes insistent. He wouldn't trespass again, he'd wait just as she asked of him.

Helena smiled, stroking warm palms up his stomach, feeling the damage underneath. Her face shifted, happiness giving way to regret.

"I could have lost you." She pressed closer, slithering her arms around his broad back. "I never want to be parted with you again." And then she looked up once more, meeting his eyes with the same intensity he had, equally burning desire simmering under her skin. "I want you."

The last step she had to take.

"You're never getting rid of me," Bane warned, crowding her back, pushing with slightly shaky hands in her hips. "You're mine and no one will touch you but me. Understand?"

"Yes," she moaned it out because he was already kissing her neck, wet and sloppy, at the same time raising her on the table.

"I always wanted to fuck you on a desk. A kitchen table will do, too," he hissed in her ear, pulling away to yank her jeans open.

Someone knocked on the skylight.

Their hands stilled and Bane growled, a primal, vibrating sound, the epitome of male displeasure.

"Do you expect anyone?"

"No," Helena said, jumping off the table, righting her clothes with knitted brows. "I'll see who that is."

An unfamiliar silhouette loomed beyond the door, slowing Helena's steps with uncertainty. Whoever the intruder was knew she would be getting out from the underground level, and pass the balcony door. Which was closest to the skylight. Which in turn, told her volumes about the fact that, intentional or not, they wanted her intimidated.

No such luck.

She opened the door and greeted the guest.

"Mr Brown."

"Ms Wolf," he said with a pleasant smile. "May I?" He gestured vaguely towards interior of the house.

"No."

The level answer surprised him.

"I said I will be back to discuss Bane," he reminded.

"You did. And I remember distinctly never agreeing on that. Instead I asked you to leave your contact info, so I could notice you if anything as unlikely as Bane calling me would happen."

"We can do it the hard way," he warned.

"Let's. I'm quite sure it we be greater difficulty for you. Stop harassing me."

The agent's jaw tensed visibly.

"Who are you protecting?"

"Myself. My peace of mind. Didn't you get all you wanted when I was interrogated back a few years ago? What would it help you now to make me relive all that had happened again?"

"I'm sure you omitted some vital information back then," he replied angrily.

Something in wording of that statement caught Helena's interest.

"Really? Tell me, what exactly you think I was unclear about?"

"I would like to conduct this conversation indoors." The evasion was blatant and insulting.

"You haven't seen it." She exclaimed gleefully. "You come here and pester me, because your little government agencies are too incompetent to work together. And you're grasping at straws." Her smile turned vicious. "Do you realize that what Bane did to me back then was not the end? Oh, he didn't contact me over the years, no. But last year, someone very close to me was in Gotham. Someone whom I care about very much. And you come here now, as your colleagues from CIA came before you, and accuse me of withholding vital information from the time I was kept imprisoned. And you had your bad guy trapped and did nothing," her voice shook with the pent up aggression, "nothing at all to stop him then. When you knew exactly where he was. And I almost lost everything dear to me again. So, Mr Brown, don't come here anymore. I'm quite certain if you'd try to tackle this issue in, as you described, 'the difficult way'," she air quoted, giving way to all the frustration she held at bay before, "the amount of paperwork required for you to interrogate me lawfully would make you sit back and realize how pathetic this attempt is. I'm well aware what you are doing now is illegal." She mocked him openly now, high on adrenaline. "Oh yes, I know you should be accompanied at least by Norwegian authority. And since I'm not a citizen? Boy howdy, how long does it take to get all papers through an embassy, yeah? You've fucked up. I never had anything to say to you, but now I will spite every other US agency that comes here as well, simply because you people never stopped to respect me enough to talk with me openly." She paused for just two seconds before sneering the final 'goodbye', closing the door.

Bane was waiting for her on the stairs to the kitchen, out of sight. She squished beside him on narrow steps, and he hauled her to his lap, hugged her close.

"You were fierce," he noted.

"The nerve of those people," she hissed, "Treating every other country as their backyard. And right after they had a crisis developing over months, on their own turf, and didn't do shit about it. Pisses me off."

"Indeed?" The usual mockery was toned down, a false note hidden beneath the usual amusement.

"I think I finally tapped into those feelings for Dorrance, the residue that was left after all the time I worried about him as much as I dreaded what would happen with Bane the Terrorist. Now I think about them both at the same time, and both sides mix and intertwine. It's so difficult to have the same person as both the victim and the oppressor."

She sighed and cuddled more comfortably into Bane's comfortable frame. She was warm, and content. Would it be wrong to stay like this until the end of days?

"We should leave," he murmured into her hair, rubbing his lips on soft tresses.

"I don't want to leave," she complained. "I have dinner on the stove."

Slow chuckle rumbled beneath her ear pressed to Bane's neck.

oOo

Over the years living in the coast Helena grew to like silence. It was never the ringing in her ears from the absolute muteness around, but instead the calming white noise of nature. Rustle of leaves as branches moved under strong gusts of wind. Creaking of wood. Murmur of grass blades rubbing together, moving as if stroked with an invisible giant hand. Always there were some man-made noises adding to the experience, grounding her in the present. Blips of email notifications. Rustle of sheets, as her current envoy turned unhurriedly every other minute. Clacking of laptop keys. Whisper of paper, as pages of a book were turned almost silently. Or, as it was now, low murmur of a one-sided conversation, as Bane sat with laptop on his thighs and a headpiece on, engrossed in a discussion with one of his colleagues.

The chuckle was uncharacteristic, goofy and puffing in short bursts. Helena looked up from her novel surprised. She smiled, astonished with Bane's carefree reaction. It was nothing out of the ordinary really, a man enjoying talk with a friend, but it didn't suit the image of this particular man. The fearsome killer snickering over some nerdy joke?

She sobered, catching the thought like an annoying fat fly, bringing it closer for detailed inspection, an analysis of its roots.

That had to be the heart of her inability to fully accept his return. She still thought of Bane the mercenary whenever she saw him. Tony the scientist was there if she read emails or talked over the phone. When in fact he was neither. Or rather both. Or someone in between the two, in the middle of the spectrum.

Her golden mean. Happy medium. Meden agan.

Tiredly she rubbed her cheeks with both hands, shifting on the sofa. Back at the monastery Bane was just himself to her. Both her ruthless kidnapper and avid listener. She knew some of his terrorist profile and saw only part of his scientific research. And still she was able to maintain a relationship, to want it, at least to some point.

Now she finally had the whole picture.

He wasn't any different to how she remembered him to be. If anything, now he was more inclined to stay and live with her, a fact she knew but didn't stop to wonder about until now. Regardless of the failure that was Gotham, he sacrificed a lot to come to her. What was to gain? For her a companion, and a friend that's for sure. Another chance at seeing if she could build a lasting relationship, without the excuse of the partner being inadequate. Bane was her ideal, both thanks to his nature and merit, and not in small amount thanks to her own idealization of him.

But what made him decide, and prepare for, spending his days out in Norwegian province, away from everything his life up to this point has been? Was it the calm stability? The sleepy quality of every day being free to do everything or nothing at all?

He turned to her, broad smile stretching his lips and shrinking some of the scars.

Did it really matter why he was here?

Helena put away her book and slid her palm on his shoulders as she went past to the kitchen, taking the opportunity to leave a small kiss on his temple. She'd make some tea and then when he would be done they'd eat dinner and discuss what herbs to plant and what to bring to Grace and Graham's Easter brunch.

After dinner Bane lounged in a chair, pensive, tapping slightly the forefinger of left hand on his lips. Steaming cup of tea sat forgotten on the table and his left foot dangled perilously close to it, balanced on his knee. It amused Helena for the first minute or so, watching him so engrossed in his own musings. He murmured something vaguely scientific at her soft inquiry, quantity of dark matter in young galaxies, which told her nothing but the fact that he was theorizing and wouldn't pay her any attention in the foreseeable future. Unless she were to become a young galaxy herself.

Smiling slightly at the prospect of becoming an example of a Greek myth, like Europa abducted by powerful and jealous being enamoured with her beauty, she settled back to read. It wasn't that far off from what actually happened but she wasn't young anymore. Neither of them were.

Rows of letters filled her vision like bars. They formed words, but she couldn't focus on the text, aware that her prolonged observation resulted in usual and predictable side effect.

Even older, battered and scarred, Bane still was an alluring and enticing specimen. Forearms were thick with muscles cording under tanned skin even in their current relaxed state. T-shirt hugged his chest softly, hanging loosely over taut, strong stomach. He was formidable, the raw power visible even at a glance. Yet his biggest asset was his brain, the immense vastness of information he stored, calculations and possibilities thought over in a blink of an eye, the inexplicable creative surge that made him this much more unexpected and therefore - dangerous. Helena realized he was most threatening when he was like this, folded comfortably in quiet contemplation. Passive. All his ruinous intentions held at bay, unknown and malignant in the way that built dread if only one realized what might be coming.

Or, she corrected herself, since he wasn't a menace anymore this was the most promising sign. Bane developing ideas, straightening and widening path of science.

Forcing herself to look back again at her magazine she sighed slightly. He could talk to her and even if she wouldn't understand a word, his voice alone would be enough to make her cream. Who was she kidding. He was just sitting there, lost in thought, and it was all she needed to tingle with anticipation. But she closed that door herself. She refused him and then he stopped pursuing… And now she wanted to jump him.

"I'll take a nap," she said, standing up abruptly.

Bane hummed but didn't otherwise react; it might as well be an acknowledgement of some thought that passed his mind at that moment.

She was silent when she scaled the corridor, but her head was bursting with complaints. Why didn't she sit by him? Why didn't she just tell him she wanted him, right now? Why didn't she make that final step, the one she insisted he'd let her take?

On a whim she turned just before the guest room.

Did he hear her intrude on the intimacy of his bedroom? She smirked, disrobing carefully and methodically, down to her panties. He always had a soft spot for those. Although today regretfully she had only some regular cotton ones, an outrageously coloured pair with broad strip of lace out front as a sole ornament.

Immersing herself in Bane's bed she sighed happily. That smell. She remembered it, and the way the sheets were after few of her visits, his fragrance mixed with hers and dirty smell of sex and sweat. She burrowed deeper, stretching comfortably on her stomach, pressing her head to the only pillow. The bed itself was broad, but as a practical man Bane wouldn't see a point in having more than the necessary on top of it. Even in the mattress was supple, the textiles luxurious…

"I hope you understand, there is no escape for you now."

Helena smiled into soft cotton, angling her head a bit to the side.

"You think?"

"I'm positive," he growled sending her a warning glance, pausing for just a second in his stride. She let herself be swept away with curent of anticipation, aware of his movements but not entirely sure what his intentions bed dipped when he reached it, kneeled over Helena and with gentle hand smoothed her hair to the side.

"I won't let you run from me ever again. And my way of securing that," he mouthed over her delicate ear. She craned her neck, giving him easier access, huffing an unsteady breath out. "my way of securing that would be very simple and very effective. One that I know you'd like." His fingers danced on top of her skin, tracing a throbbing line down her neck. She felt her abdomen contract in the ageless sensation, a sweet ache brought forward by mere proximity of the man she wanted.

"And what is that?" She smiled when he dipped his hand under her, grunting and cupping her breast, and pressing to her back more fully even through the sheet.

"All I need to do is keep you exhausted. In my bed." He taunted. "Wouldn't even need to tie you to it, I'm sure."

"Oh, but I might like that," she murmured, savouring his greediness when he impatiently clawed the sheet off and leaned back. She watched him in her peripheral, knowing the exact way his eyes were glistening as he appreciated flowing line of her exposed back, and the way bold shade of her lingerie cut striking lines accentuating her buttocks.

Hot mouth at the base of her neck was a surprise. A welcome one, but break in their pattern, one she still remembered after ten years apart. But he was free to use his mouth now, and Helena scoffed, mad at herself for submerging into the sensation deep enough to forget about that detail. Where was her obsession with his face, that need to touch and see it? Once she would be unrelenting until he'd let her kiss him, especially in the light of day.

It was so long ago...

"Do you remember that first night?" she asked, rising hips to allow him better hold, relishing strong palms circling slightly protruding bones.

"Yes," he confirmed, voice sharp and strained.

Her back was engulfed in heat when he bore down, put his weight on top of her. One palm slid down in a stealthy movement while he distracted her with licks and nips and kisses around her shoulders and neck.

Helena dug her knees into the mattress, pressing up, rolling her hips to encourage his hand to hit its mark.

"I loved everything you did then," she panted. Bane's fingers caressed hem of her panties, tickling taut skin on her abdomen. "But I always wanted to have it all finished with an addition of your mouth on my pussy at the end."

He growled. Helena shivered at the sound and gripped the pillow, pressed her forehead down under weight of his hand tangled in her hair.

"Just like back then?" he asked, humid breath moving fine fuzz at the back of her neck, the one he obsessed over and over again, an eternity ago.

"Please." The moan was so much more than a plea to continue.

An absolution. A promise. An admission.

Bane didn't waste time to check how ready she was, the evidence was clear to see when he gently slid her underwear off, glimmer of slick moisture sticking to the fabric, like a hair extending until it broke under the tension. The material was down to her mid-thigh, restricting her movement slightly, and his options along with it.

With a start he straightened, realizing only now he was still fully clothed.

"Do you want me instruct you again?" she asked, turning to him with a laugh.

He was just throwing his t-shirt away, set already on unzipping his pants, his expression fierce and unforgiving.

Helena gulped.

"On your knees," he ordered.

Oh, she remembered what was to come now. The gentle and sensual part was apparently over. Helena hissed slightly, nerves zapped with sensation of Bane's cock hot at her entrance.

He cursed under his breath and moved away, shuffling frantically in cupboard of the bedside table. In record time he fished out a silvery packet, opened it and rolled the condom out, stilling again right before making the last step.

"Bane…" Helena moaned.

He looked at her, from the top of round cheeks hid under his splayed palms, through enticing plane of her back, arched and twisted slightly to let her look at him from under fringe of tousled hair. Thin arms circled his pillow, fingers digging into soft fabric, one over and the other under her head.

She smiled and he pushed.

Home.

The pleasure punched him in the gut, bowing him down with the amount of relief it brought. Even despite near violent tremor that ran up his back he fought to keep his eyes open, filing the moment, committing it to the memory. His brows knitted with concentration and he had to bite his lip to suppress the surge of profanity threatening to spill. Nothing compared.

Underneath him, Helena was immersed in her own little world of sensation, moving in tandem with his thrusts, moaning and sighing in time with his tempo. Or maybe her tempo, Bane wasn't sure anymore. His hands gripped her hips, but did he pull her to him, or did he brace for stability, he didn't know himself. He was dizzy, light headed like after a good few glasses of whisky, spiralling further and further into that mindless feral place where nothing but pleasure mattered.

Vaguely he noticed she was further from the peak than him. And also, that little detail of not having his mask nagged on his mind. Of course. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Wasting such an opportunity, he was an imbecile. With pained whine he reached to his pelvis and pulled out, mindful of the contraption on his cock.

"Turn around," he ordered.

Helena giggled and sat straight, reaching out to touch Bane's chest. He was having none of it. Two quick moves and she was flat on her back, a quick squeak the only reaction she managed before he was back on her, pushing to the hilt and swallowing her groan with his mouth. She gripped his face, fingers playing with ridges of his scars, stroking ears and scratching back of his neck just under his hair. Her tongue drew a slick insistent path over his lips, and he let her mouth some inconsequential nonsense over his cheeks and under his jaw, enjoying the delicate caress.

Too soon he was degraded to a grunting, grinding mess, desperately trying to reach oblivion, focused solely on his own pleasure. He latched onto Helena's mouth, greedy, insistent and demanding, pumping with fast rhythm, faltering into a stutter. Helena scratched down his back, disentangling forcefully to draw a much needed breath and moan her hoarse cries off into the quiet of the afternoon. Bane was fast on her track, gripping her hair to bring her lips back to his, mouth hot and tight with growls.

Feeling the impending release he slowed, determined to savour the finish, just as he savoured sweat he licked off her skin, as he relished the breathy way she gulped air and violence of nails rising swollen welts on his skin.

"Look at me," Helena whispered, cutting through his movement, forcing him to snap his head up. "Now."

Just like that she undid him, all careful calculations and planning, every shred of control he thought he had, stripped off to leave him gulping air almost panicked, snuggling his face to the racing pulse at her neck. His hips moved strongly one more time and then he could only grind up in tight little circles, unable to stop the contact of overheated skin, addicted to moisture sticking them together everywhere. Sweat, saliva and her very own nectar. He regretted putting the condom on; wouldn't mind adding in his semen to the mixing then tasting it all in her, off her.

He remembered her comment then, the one she made while he still was mostly in the possession of his mind.

Wolfish grin spread slowly on his lips.

"I'm not done with you yet," he warned.

Helena laughed, panting through last tremors of her high.

"I hope you never will be," she admitted.

oOo

She knew falling asleep was a mistake.

Boastful part of her wanted to believe her presence would be enough to placate his demons, to soothe the pain tensing his muscles and disrupting his rest. Foolish. Neither of them had a shred of control over the situation. She knew the awakening would be rude.

Just how rude though, she never would have guessed.

Without preamble she opened her eyes, staring at the sloping ceiling over her head. Her dreams stopped immediately when a hand constricted around her neck. It wasn't threatening in the beginning, the pressure noticeable but more than bearable. But she didn't dare move. Gently she drew in breath a bit deeper, involuntarily shifting on his outstretched arm and that was enough.

His fingers closed, slowly, deliberately, building the tension of impending doom with practiced ease. Helena knew fighting was no use, and she tried calling to him. Softly, enticingly.

It was no use too.

Her pulse quickened when she had first trouble with swallowing, and out of sheer reflex her hand flew to his, and she dug her nails in, a feeble attempt at prying his paw off of her.

No use at all.

Ugly thoughts creeped into her mind. What if he won't let go? What if he uses the other hand too? What if he's not asleep? She felt dread like a physical sensation, washing like a cold and damp tendril slithering down her spine.

High pitched whine escaped her lips and she trashed, panicked now, trying to free herself at any cost, scratching, hitting, kicking, shouting.

In a second it was over and she was sat upright, halfway off the bed with her effort to get away. Strong arms held her close, pinned, restrained, braced to an overheated body.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" Like a mantra behind her ear, in an uncharacteristic broken whisper, something she didn't suspect Bane capable of.

Her throat was raw, but nonetheless she greedily gulped big gusts of air, trying to remember all and any techniques to calm herself down.

She started inhaling in time with Bane's slowing words, gradually coming down, tired with the rush of emotions she lived through just now. When she started trembling, he finally let her go.

"Do you want water?" He asked.

She nodded, thankful for the opportunity to sit still alone for a little while.

When he came from the kitchen she was almost back to herself. Bane didn't apologize anymore, but the guilt was clearly visible in his eyes.

"I'll relocate to my room," she said plainly. They both winced at how her vocal cords squealed.

Helena knew hiding from the issue would be the worst course to take. They should talk about it. Discuss the reasons, possibilities, paths to follow.

She was so tired with all that meticulous dismantling of every action, each thought, and all reasons behind them. All she wanted was a good night's sleep at Bane's side, and maybe a repeat performance of their afternoon activity, followed by a carefree morning in the kitchen.

Fat chance.

"Stay for a while," he said. It wasn't a plea. Neither an order. It sounded like both.

"What for?" she croaked out.

"If you go now you will associate me with what happened. I want to blur that memory," he explained.

Helena huffed angrily, unsure what she wanted. It did make sense, of course it did. Then again, getting as far away as she could was quite logical too. After all he was the reason her neck was bruised; he could just as easily have her windpipe crushed. Why would she let him try his manipulative tricks now?

"Please," he whispered. "Don't leave me."

It was the knife all over again. He knew it was his doing, but had hardly any recollection of the fact. Helena was aware. She suspected there was dissociation, one he was trying to bridge with having her close now. As a reminder to him of what he had done. At the same time he would probably try to caress her to erase painful memory, overlapping it with a pleasurable one.

Reluctantly she shuffled to the bed, sitting on the edge.

He was miserable. Looked actually kind of afraid of her reaction.

"At least you didn't have any weapons close this time," she smirked tiredly at him.

He gathered her close, easily pulling her to his lap. Rested his chin on the crown of her head. His body was dangerous to her as it was, without augmentation of steel in any shape or form. A terrible realization.

"I don't know what I would do if I'd hurt you more severely," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Will you agree to get some professional help?"

He didn't answer and she tensed again, not bothering to hide the trepidation twisting her heart.

"Bane, please. I won't be able to continue like that."

"I'll inquire into my options."

"Thank you."

She settled down for a while. It was good enough for now.

Bane absent-mindedly stroked her arms, fingers playing with downy hair, lips pressing to the crown of her head in gentle kisses. Neither of them could stay long like that, so eventually Helena stirred and slithered out.

"I should be going now," she said with a smile.

"You should stay."

Bane wa tense still. Plagued by what happened most likely.

"I promise I won't drink any poison while you won't be looking." The poor attempt at a joke escaped Helena's lips before she thought better.

"Stop joking about it."

It wasn't a shout. Yet the palpable anger behind Bane's words stilled Helena on her way out. With stiff back she slowly turned.

"Why not?"

It was stupid impulse to nudge him closer to the edge and she knew it. But she had her defense mechanisms as well, her inadequacies and misgivings. Her nerves were bristling still from what transpired just minutes ago.

"Because I lost that child too. Before I even knew it existed. You took the decision away without so much as a courtesy acknowledgement in my direction."

"That I did. I don't think it is a discussion you want to have right now."

"How can you be so fucking calm?" he shouted, "I love you but you're so… detached. Is there any shred of humanity left in you to at least admit to yourself what you did?"

"You ask me about humanity? You! How many children you killed with hunger, rapes and violence during Gotham siege? Before that, with raids on civilians, or manipulation of local warlords, or whatever it was that you did as a mercenary?"

Her voice shook, tremors wracking her body like some great beast trying to get out.

"I never wanted to take part in any of that, let alone to be pregnant with you. With anyone! You want to know why I panicked like that? I was afraid you'd make me keep it. I loathed the thought of giving birth to it and then staying at the monastery, looking after it until you'd deem it grown enough to immerse into your little fucked up operation." Tears welled and overflowed in an instant, hot and stinging. "I had nightmares where I was happy with just sitting there, caring for it and waiting for you," she sobbed.

Bane was horrified, standing before her with fisted hands.

"I didn't want to like that idea. I didn't want to like you. I didn't want to give you any more power over me than what you already had," she choked out, overwhelmed with strain of keeping the torrent of memories at bay, impossible once the dam she put up cracked. "What you took and what I so foolishly gave you." Tears glistened in faint glow from the window, her palms impatiently smoothing over cheeks to get rid of them.

"I got it all regardless."

His argument, although at face value cruel and impassive, calmed her down. She chuckled and settled visibly. Even her shoulders relaxed a bit.

"You did. You always get what you want."

"The price is always too high."

His fists remained closed, gripping nothing but his rage. Or maybe sadness. Clearly there was tempestuous brew of emotions raging in his head as well, even though he tried to maintain a steady, calm facade.

"Come to bed. I won't fall asleep. Just want to hold you."

Helena kept staring at him, hesitant over her own desires and his true intentions. It was still hard to believe this terrorist, this merciless killer, was in some way dependant on her. Required her presence, her compliance, to feel well.

"Your schedule is already disrupted enough," she argued. "We both should get rested as much as possible before tomorrow."

That glimpse, the one she was inadvertently drawn to, was back in his gaze.

"To bed," he commanded mildly. "Now."

She scoffed, but the retort died in her throat when he reached out and tugged her close. Still he was gentle with her body, stroking her lightly to placate and relax. The mercenary was holding the reins, since the scientist failed at securing their objective.

"Don't fight me anymore. Not tonight." Not ever, he added in his head.

To his visible relief she followed him between the sheets, settling a tad uneasily but silently beside him.

They both needed time to unwind, muscles still jumping occasionally with adrenaline leftover from the argument. Bane absentmindedly kissed Helena's hair, taking the opportunity as he usually did to bask in the faint fragrance. This is what home smelled like. He had one now. Briefly his mind jumped to the memory of a night a short week past, when he emerged from his hallucination. He meant it when he said he was home. No other place shared that title, only the spot by Helena's side. Whether it was at this cottage or anywhere else in the world.

It was his job now to protect it.

Even from himself.

* * *

 **Do let me know what you think! I'm dying to know.**

 **Review responses** :

 **Chey, thanks for sticking with Helena still. Damn, I could use some of her snark right about now. And as I've said before you're absolutely right on the origins of Banes nom de guerre. Sharp as ever!**

 **Lia, English is not my first language either; look how marvellous it is, we're sharing stories over cables and monitors, and exchange words as if there were no barriers between us. Your kind comment did help a lot - picked me up when I was struggling to go further. Hope this extra long chapter will convey at least some of my gratefulness. :)**

 **Sxevlbtch, love your nickname. Enjoy the 'more' Parr you requested. Brewing Banes backstory and a little drabble about the escape from Gotham, but that's for later.**

 **Adarya, would you believe I like to reread your comments? :) the smut is here, although this installment is a bit timid. I have planned to work on a special drabble for you, but life got me held up a bit. Will get too it next, I think. You're right, Bane in Armenia was rather vigorous. I should revisit him, as an inspiration for current chapters ofc.:D anyway, always a pleasure to see a word from you, so don't ever hesitate to write to me.**

 **Bluebell, here's your update. And congratulations, your kind words kicked me in the butt, and I actually decided to merge two chapters into the one we have now. Felt a bit pressured with the praise, but in a good way, I swear!**


	7. Sculptor, 3 of 5

**Did you expect another part this soon? I didn't; it just happened.**

 **Shout out to my dearest ThreeDamnDots, who works every day to get my sorry ass writing. She is the one who makes it all happen folks! I'm just the medium.**

 **Thanks, Bee!**

 **As always, review responses at the end.**

 **R &R!**

* * *

 _Sculptor, or shaping the future one day at a time._

 _In which a bloom of soft and gentle hue emerges from its bud._

* * *

 **Part 3**

 **The Flower**

* * *

Acrid and bitter smoke soured saliva in her mouth. Helena watched as the cigarette burned out steadily under the strong wind, ash eating away at the paper encompassing the tobacco. Slowly, steadily, red flow of the heat relentlessly advancing forward, heralded with a tell-tale wave of warmth on her fingers. She inhaled the last drag and extinguished the butt.

Her throat was still a bit raw, and the tang of smoke didn't help to mitigate it. It did wonders to her nerves though, and she clung to that thought.

Once more Bane hurt her; unwittingly this time, but it still counted. And she couldn't hold it against him.

And it bothered her. A lot.

He was sorry, she believed that. But how could she build a relationship, her future, again on the shaky pillars of want and dreams? The reality was simple, they were both damaged; he way more than her. Did she have it in her to help him through? She wanted to, but could she really endure another attack in the middle of the night, another hallucination episode, another argument over what was before?

Patch of freshly turned soil caught her eye. His back hurt lately, but still he helped her without a complaint. Placated her after the talk with the DHS agent. She still felt pleasant throb of muscle after last night, a tingle of stretched muscles a very welcome reminder of an excellent bout of sex. All sex was good, but with Bane it was different, special in a way she couldn't really pinpoint. It wasn't his technique or size, nothing as simple and superficial like that. Whatever he did to her body paled in comparison with what he made her feel.

She shuddered under cold wind and went back down the sloping path.

It was nearly a month. Almost thirty days of angsting over and over, always about the same thing. She scoffed angrily, impatient with her own weakness. She made her decision already. It was time to hold up her end of the arrangement.

The mercenary she once loved was in the past. Her friend was in the past.

Her future was the man currently living in the neighbouring cottage.

Her pace was slow but steady, head bowed to try and recognise any irregularities in the path that could hinder her, a difficult task to achieve with only moonlight as her sole light source. This night was stretching in infinity, a never-ending pocket of darkness bringing out their fears under feeble protection of shadows, sure to be dispelled in few hours' time. Not yet, though. Not before they cleared the air completely.

The walk through silent and unlit rooms and corridor reminded her of that one evening when Bane asked her to come to him, waiting in a darkened chamber. The first time he ever let her touch his face, kiss him, experience him as a whole man. An inferno of a day it was; heavenly at first, then descending rapidly deeper and deeper into an abyss of dread. He was as unstable as she then; she didn't know. Didn't suspect the battles he had to endure day after day.

She knew now.

Door to his bedroom was still ajar, just as she left it, the man was still lying in bed. On his side now instead of propped with his back to the headboard. He seemed so much smaller, so much more human. Fragile.

Rustle of her clothes was the only sound above the ever-present swooshing of the wind. She slithered between the covers only in her panties. Wordlessly she ran her cold palms over him, either on each side of his stomach, and then further to the middle of his back, bringing them so close their foreheads could touch with barest tilt of their heads.

"I was angry at you because I felt left alone for so long," she started.

Bane put his left palm on her cheek and laid there, listening.

"I was confused at first because I didn't want to miss you. I almost killed myself to get away and then when I was free, I dreamt of getting back, of finding you to explain why, of begging to be close to you again. Even for a little while. Then I set on making myself happy. There were many attempts, some more successful than others. David, Nicklaus, Karim, Andrei, Georges. Some others, some for one night. I was looking for peace and couldn't grasp what I needed. I tried being alone, too. Friendship with Dorrance was getting me close, but it still wasn't enough."

She drew in a long and shaky breath in preparation.

"I never told him, you, about what I was going through. You could read between the lines maybe, but only while we were speaking. How often was it? Once every month, two or three sometimes?" She closed her eyes and knitted her brows, putting his hand from her face to her belly. "Do you feel this scar? It's too fresh to be the same one from Armenia, right?"

Bane rose on his elbow, forcing Helena to her back as he slid the covers down to inspect her skin.

"What happened to you?"

"I was very, very ill not so long ago. About that time when Dorrance, you", she corrected again, impatient, "were avoiding me. I have to check up if it's still okay regularly. That's why Sven made Grace come to see if I was okay. I missed my last appointments."

"What happened to you?" He repeated, desperate and confused.

"Hysterectomy. Partial. I had cancer."

He was shell-shocked by the news.

"It's okay now, and when I learnt about it, everything went down pretty fast. Didn't leave me much time to be truly afraid. I think the surgery was not even a month from when the doctor found that something's wrong. I was home few days after. Grace visited frequently to cheer me up. I was working as usual. The only real problem was the silence from you."

She looked up at him, measuring his reaction.

"It's over and done with. I just wanted you to understand how much baggage I still have over what happened during the last decade. I understand you have yours; in time I hope we will be able to work through it all. For now I want to just be with you. Without hiding anything, without suppressing negative feelings until they burst."

A tentative nudge was all it took for Bane to lay back down again, letting Helena cradle him close just like before.

"Did your sister help?"

"No, I never told her about it. We're not that close anymore."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Dorrance was a friend. A guy who was fun and nice, but who always kept his distance. The demarcation line was clear and wide enough to be impossible to breach without his help."

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I didn't tell this to make you apologize. Do you hear me?"

She made him look her straight into her eyes, an angry and solemn expression stark contrast to the feelings pouring out of her voice.

"I want you to understand why. If you need anything more from me, just ask. And I want to understand what makes you unhappy and incomplete too, so then I can do something about it. But we need to be honest and clear the air around us and try hard. Because it won't be easy for either of us. Right?"

He nodded, a minute smile passing over his lips at her commanding tone.

"I always protected those who were close to me. Even with my life, I was prepared to do anything it took. I thought I was protecting you then, when I kept you in the dark. Then, I was staying away to shield you from what was about to come, from the apocalypse in Gotham."

"You wanted to die?" Her voice was small, but steady.

"For a while. I was prepared to die. And then I was prepared to live. Thanks to you."

He relaxed into her palms stroking up and down his back, lulling him into warmth and comfort of her embrace.

"I failed. My little girl died. You almost followed, unbeknownst to me. I thought I was the master of what was happening, keeping every string in my hands, when in reality I was the puppet myself. I let emotions blind me. Talia was scheming her own death on top of my plans; she wanted the whole city dead with her. I knew, but deluded myself into thinking I could change her mind in the last second. Or drag her to safety against her will. And you, you were suffering in silence, taking your life into your own hands. Just like you did back then, in the monastery. I always admired how goal-oriented you were when pushed to the limit. You're so pliable and weak at a first glance. But elusive. Like water, filling the boundaries if they're impenetrable but chasing the escape as soon as the slightest crack appears. I admire that. I admire lots of things about you."

There was a moment of silence between them, a complete and utter peace and quiet over the house. Even the wind stopped for a while and the eerie calm settled gradually, like dust falling in place after a fight. Helena never stopped the mesmerizing movement of her hand, palm sliding over Banes skin, over bumps and ridges, again and again in the most basic of comforting gestures.

His low voice was barely above a whisper, audible only because they were so close their breaths mingled in the dark space between them.

"I used to protect Talia, holding her like this. Even in my sleep, especially in my sleep, looking over her. Shielding from harm."

Tears streaked down the tops of his cheeks and nose, gathering in a small stain on the pillow.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry I'm beaten and damaged and worthless now. I'm sorry I never stopped to listen in time."

"We will get through this, together," Helena implored. Determination glistened in her eyes when she gathered his face in her palms. "I will show you how I see you. And you will be, for once in your life, content and complete."

She pressed a hot, insistent kiss on his closed lips, then followed it with a quick succession of chaste pecks all over his face.

"Sleep now," she ordered, pressing her lips to his closed eyelids. "I will look over you."

oOo

Two hours passed with Helena looking over Bane's sleeping form. There were so many familiar things about it; but so much more unfamiliar. She could do it now whenever she wanted. No one would come and escort her back to a small room, solitary quarters fit only for work and sleep. He would never make her imagine how he looked, his face now barren of the dreadful mask.

There were scars she half-remembered and she traced them with her eyes; lest she woke him up if she did that with pads of her fingers. Some she thought that should be there, on his neck and torso, that weren't there. Either covered with other more serious marks or just a figment of her imagination. She studied him leisurely, from the top of his dirty blond mop of hair with silvery streaks here and there, to the hem of the duvet shielding his stomach and legs. It was an absorbing activity and surprisingly enjoyable. Maybe because Bane didn't snore.

She smiled and eventually settled her head back on the pillow, letting the cramped muscles in her arm and neck stretch out and rest.

The air in the room seemed lighter and fresher than before or she could finally breathe easier. As if the proverbial rock was lifted up from her chest. So many things were left unsaid between them it felt impossible to breach the ravine. But they weren't at the bottom, they were at the top, at cliffs overlooking a pass, and the bridge was already drawn between them. They only needed to reinforce it and widen the path.

A doable task.

Bane stirred slightly and yawned, a mumbled greeting escaping along with a sigh.

"Any plans for today?" she asked, smiling warmly down at him.

He shook his head and shifted closer, hiding his face into her chest, making her laugh.

"You're such a bum."

He wasn't, she was the first to acknowledge how hard working and self-driven he was. Still, it was cute how he chose to just linger in bed with her. Helena on the other hand was slowly developing bed sores.

"I should get a job," she said, a sudden realization startling even for her.

Bane twisted to look at Helena, amused smirk shyly blooming on his lips.

"Whatever for?"

"Structure mostly. Believe it or not some people do it for the money. I've got a friend, Anna, you'll meet her at Grace's on Easter, she's a teacher in a local school here and she has been pestering me about organizing handwriting lessons for kids. Young teenagers, so I declined initially, obviously. Who needs that drama? But now, come to think of it, I might use a steady source of income and the mundane repetition of scheduled activity sounds pretty compelling. I've been mulling over myself long enough as it is…"

"You need money?" Bane interrupted, rising slightly in alarm.

"I've depleted my savings quite a bit over last few years and I haven't worked since your last assignment. In May last year, I think. I'm not broke yet, but I have to start doing something about at least my day-to-day expenses."

He let her soothe him back down to where he was before, but it was obvious he was still ill at ease.

"I'll give you what you need."

With a small smile she linked their fingers and raised his right palm to her lips.

"I'll manage on my own. Structure, remember? Besides, I can't be depending on you on everything, that was going on for too long as it is."

"I want to provide for you."

"Aren't your savings getting smaller? Come to think of it, where do you, as Dorrance, get your money from?"

"I had some awards granted and accolades."

"That's hardly sufficient for all this, let alone all other places you said you own."

"Before being a physicist Dorrance was dealing in antiquities."

"Huh."

"Every penny on my personal accounts is legal, if that's what you were wondering about."

That was a curious bit of information. Helena mused over the thought for a while.

"I was, yeah. Antiques. That explains the manuscript."

Bane hummed.

"Are you rich?"

The question was rapid and sounded almost as if she couldn't help herself. He chuckled, snuggling a bit closer; a bear in the arms of a rabbit. He seemed content.

"I have enough for both of us to be comfortable."

"Huh." Helena smoothed her unrestricted hand down his neck and shoulders, feeling the now familiar scars. "That's nice."

"Indeed."

They enjoyed tranquillity of just being there, safe and calm in the moment. Sleep wasn't an option and the day slowly crept upon them, so eventually Helena sighed and untangled carefully.

"Let's get some breakfast," she said.

He hummed an affirmation.

Trekking silently through an unlit corridor they brushed hands, tentatively reestablishing the connection frayed by Bane's earlier outburst. In the living room Helena made him stop and admire with her the hue of the sky brightening in the east, a lovely shade of Prussian blue fading into thin azure line and then budding brilliance of lilacs. Soon there would be a golden shine on the water, but for now the sea was black and still, on the brink of the new day.

They stood still for a while, basking in tranquillity of dawn, shielded against morning cold with warmth of their bodies, Bane's strong shoulders loosely wrapped around Helena's back, her head resting comfortably on his clavicle.

"I love you," she murmured, contentment spreading like a warm current around her body, "I think I always have."

She smiled when she felt Bane press a chaste kiss to her hair. This was perfect, the calmness and safety palpable even though their earlier altercation was a tempest of bad feelings and painful memories. Whatever would happen they were in it together, she reminded herself.

Disentangling with a sigh she stroked his biceps, a fleeting, teasing touch.

"What would you like to eat?"

He leered, making Helena sneer in amusement over implied suggestion.

"Too soon. I was asking food-wise this time."

He chuckled, following her down two steps to kitchen area.

"We have some bread, but it will be stale by now. French toast?"

"Nah, I don't feel like anything sweet." She frowned, rummaging through the cupboards. Her eyes lit up with satisfaction and she exclaimed shortly, pulling out a packet and presenting it to Bane.

"Let's have rice and miso soup, what do you say?"

"Okay." He smiled, enjoying her little happy dance when she fished out additional ingredients she liked.

"I'll wash the rice and put it on. In the meantime you could get your meditation out of the way."

"Out of the way?"

She turned to the sink, already elbows deep into a big bowl filled with rice and cold water.

"It takes time. I thought it would be efficient to do it now, instead of after breakfast."

"You're right."

There was a detachment in his tone, neutrality that was too obvious, making Helena shake her head.

"Are you reading into what I just said?"

"Perhaps."

"And what are your conclusions, huh?"

"Your tone suggested you have something against it." He knew that what he heard was there, but perhaps she didn't realize it herself. A shadow of resentment, a glimmer of anger.

"My tone." She sighed. There was no way they could jump-start trust and knowledge of their feelings instantly, even with all the talking they did that night. "Okay. What did my words tell you?"

"That you want me to get it over with." The implication was clear. He knew she wasn't a fan of this activity.

"Give me benefit of a doubt please, and assume I'm not trying to mindfuck you every time I speak?"

Maybe she was just unsure of what was he doing when he went away to meditate? The assumption that he hid something from her wouldn't be totally unfounded; while she never hinted she suspected him of anything, her instincts clearly told her he was dishonest. That was impeding their communications on a subconscious level.

"You are right," he said. Then in a rare instance of spontaneity he followed it with, "I'll do it here, if you don't mind."

"Won't my cooking distract you?"

"Not more than usual."

"Oh, okay."

She stood there, an open jar forgotten in her hands, completely dumbfounded.

Smirking under his nose, Bane brought his incense and a flat pillow from his room. Helena's quick glances resulted in warm tingle along his spine every time he caught one in reflection on the glass. It was chilly beside the window, but the view was spectacular, the sunrise unfolding slowly before his very eyes, almost close enough to feel rising tension of particles heating up under onslaught of the radiant burn.

He sat on his hunches, knees spread comfortably on the floor. With a deep breath he refocused on himself instead of his surroundings. Lighting the fragrant stick to glow into an ember he exhaled, extinguishing the flame and leaving only a dull wisp of smoke floating in an ethereal thread up to the ceiling. Another breath and he felt every ache in his joints and muscles, the assaulting awareness of his diminished constitution as unpleasant as ever. He left all musings and regret on that with yet another calming inhale, feeling the sandalwood smoke filling his nose with a smooth familiarity. He watched the water, reflecting first shy sunrays, flickering and fluid, never letting him focus on one thing. His consciousness flowed and bended with the sea, expanding to fit every millimetre of the room he was in.

Beams in the ceiling creaked slightly, adjusting under never ending wrestle of the gale. The wind itself swooshed playfully along planes of glass, whistling an invitation to come out and join the fun of skimming through rocks and grasses and leaves. Back behind him Helena was stirring dashi in the pot, adding a low whisper of gas flame to the quiet melody of the morning. She hummed in the back of her throat, half aware she was doing it, making Bane smile slightly. His focus distorted and sharpened intermittently threatening to break his tranquillity, but whenever this problem arose, the ebbing and flowing lines of the sea soothed his mind.

Humid and pleasant smell of cooking rice mixed with the incense, accompanied by light, salty note of steeping soup. Any minute now Helena will add wakame, then chop scallions and gently divide tofu. He was aware of her every move, following her in his mind as she rummaged through the kitchen, no doubt in search of toppings for the rice. All at the same time he was watching her cook eggs and season tuna, enjoyed the sunrise, listened to his own heartbeat and dissolved his consciousness to a point where only the barest awareness of self was left.

He floated, elated, on the feeling of absolute harmony, present in each moment as it began, unfolded and passed, seamlessly leading him to the next one, further along in time.

"It's ready," Helena called out softly, hesitantly.

He hummed his response, confirming he heard her, letting himself enjoy the extension of vibrations this simple sound produced. He unfurled slowly, accepting back every ache and complaint his body communicated.

There was still one thing to do.

"Can you give me five minutes?"

"Sure, it's ready but can sit and wait another hour."

"Five minutes will suffice."

He went to his bedroom and observed Helena cautiously as he came back with vaporizer and a vial in hand.

"For my nerves," he joked.

Helena watched him with a little frown as he sat on the sofa, the one in her direct line of vision instead of the other that would leave her to ogle his back. Few practiced movements were all it took before he leaned back and dragged a deep puff of the vapour.

He felt the cushion dip under added weight, moved free arm to let Helena snuggle close, cradled possessively with his hand on her hip.

"What is it?"

"Pot," he said, using the same term she brought up a while back, purposefully adding a taunting lilt to his words. Despite the meditation he was coiled up in preparation, gauging every reaction she displayed.

"For the pain?"

"And the stress, yes." he supplied, relieved. Another drag went almost unnoticed, acceptance of the woman beside him as intoxicating as any drug. "I still have to inject myself with some medications and take some pills, but it's all at bearable levels."

"Bearable," she whispered.

Bane relaxed into the sofa, sighing as her palm travelled up and down his torso. The skin there was still very tender, but her touch was gentle, sliding delicately over the fabric of his t-shirt.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked, her voice small.

Bane suspected what she was thinking. He was in a good mood, not at all inclined to spoil it with another solemn talk. No point in any more of those.

"Yes. There is one thing I would benefit from and it requires a second pair of hands."

"What is it?" She perked up a bit, craned her neck to look him in the eye.

She scowled at his playful grin.

"Full body massage, with special attention on…"

"Oh, shut it," she groaned and slid away, going back to the kitchen. "I swear I'm never going to feel bad for you again."

Laughing, Bane stayed in his spot, intent on riding the pleasant and unusual rush of steady satisfaction until the very end.

Meanwhile Helena laid out their meal, grumbling under her breath all the time. She cut and arranged the twisted and layered Japanese omelette, put beside it a saucer with teared up seaweed, then another with pickled beetroot and some salad leaves, emerald green a sharp contrast to the pickle. Next was the bowl with tuna mixed with mayonnaise, sprinkled on with colourful mix of sesame, peppercorns and chili flakes. Two cups of steaming soup, miso swirling softly in its depths. Last but not least, bowls for the rice and chopsticks.

Bane sauntered slowly towards the bar, sucking in his last whizz of the medicine. He left the vaporizer on the counter and took the warm pot of steamed rice from Helena's hands, transferring it absentmindedly to the board left for that purpose. With the same fluidity of movement he turned back towards the scribe and cradled her jaw in his hands warmed slightly beyond his usual temperature. He took his time looking into her eyes, lowering slightly towards her, inhaling the smell of her body and noting every minute change in her breath, every twitch and spasm of muscle. Her hands rested lightly above his hips, thumbs stroking little circles on soft cotton of his clothes.

"Thank you for making me happy," he said simply.

The smile she gave him stilled his breath with sheer joy radiating towards him.

oOo

"Oh gods," Helena moaned.

Strolling out of the bathroom in pajama bottoms and few stray drops of water Bane looked at her questioningly.

"Grace called. That meal on Sunday will be an 'Easter Murder Mystery' brunch."

"A what?"

"Murder mystery brunch," Helena mumbled, looking awkwardly to the side.

"But why?"

"Norwegian tradition."

"Aren't they Americans?"

"Yeah, well, nobody's perfect. Not their fault anyway."

"Not what I meant. But, you know, that can be rectified."

"Yeah, I don't give a shit. Going back to mine to change. Pick me up at half past ten, okay?"

"Rendezvous 10:30, Roger that." He mock saluted and grinned, turning back to finish his morning ablutions.

The shops were open only until the early afternoon since on Thursday the Easter celebration was supposed to begin. Norway had the longest Easter holiday period in the world, and it showed in the long queues of last-minute shoppers. Helena implored Bane to stack up on everything, even though technically there would be some stores open on Saturday.

He didn't fight her too hard, especially when she failed to buy him once the mushroom of his choice. No matter if fresh shiitake were nowhere in sight, he was still cross with her for even suggesting he could substitute it with cremini. So now he insisted to shop with her or alone, to always get exactly what he needed. Helena was fine with that; Bane suspected a subtle subterfuge on her part, but couldn't prove it.

Their cart was filled halfway with produce when they finally made it to the queue and time waiting for their turn at the checkout was spent on a banter over who would pay. Then, Helena took Bane to lunch in a restaurant by the bay, right on the pier. Ride back home was spent in a companionable silence. Helena left Bane to unload everything and went back to her cottage.

He followed soon after, unwilling to stay away for too long.

The view which greeted him was a pleasant surprise, one he didn't know he missed. Or how much he missed, to be exact.

"You're writing again?"

"I thought it would be nice to get back on that horse." Her joke was half-serious. The desk was dusty, clearly not used for quite some time. She had to take away some saplings growing in seedling containers and clean it with a cloth before she settled on the chair. "I want to make a little something for Fergusons for Easter. "

"A psalm?"

"I know they're both believers, even though they don't attend any congregation. I think Graham is Catholic, but Grace was originally a Presbyterian."

Bane watched her work, practicing simple lines on a bit of decorative paper, acquainting herself back with her tools. It didn't take long for her to switch to whole sentences, to get the flow of ink just right, the thickness of lines perfect and controlled.

"Do they have any children?"

"Several. Let me think." She tapped index finger on her lips, smearing a bit of ink there. "I'm sure they have three. Maybe four. Two girls and a boy, all very much grown-up, around my age and older."

Now she switched to inspecting pigments in small jars, waiting in neat rows. Just like they were at her workshop way back when; all perfectly organized and prepared for work even when not in use.

"Would you like me to help you with your plants?"

"Would you?" She twisted back in her seat, her project forgotten for the time being. "That would be great. It's fertilizing time and I planned on planting all plants after Easter. We could buy missing seedlings and put them all in at the same time."

"Sounds good." He nodded, smiling slightly. "Everything is where you showed me before?"

"You'll get to it now then?"

"Yes. I'll make lunch after. You work."

"Mhm."

Gathering his tools was a simple task and he used it to keep observing her. As always, he couldn't take his eyes off the graceful curve of her neck. Now he knew exactly how she smelled, what the texture of fine hair there felt underneath his lips. How she shivered when he would press himself to her back and hunch over her shoulder.

Shaking off the thoughts, filing them out for later, he set to his job. Jacket off, he rolled up sleeves of his shirt and henley underneath, then prepared the bags of compost and spade to dig it in. One quick survey to establish the bounds of his workplace finally, and he put on gloves. The first trench went easy and he filled it with organic matter in a short minute. The second went almost as fast, but the further it went, the more he felt the strain on his back. Halfway in he stopped and stretched using the spade as a support. He probably should have worn his brace for this type of work, next time the opportunity arose, he thought. For now, he was almost done, so he decided to just endure the strain until the end.

As he was digging from the far side, the finish line was just at the terrace. As he neared, he heard the door open behind his back, bringing out faint tune playing somewhere inside.

"Do you want something to drink?"

"I'm almost done. Make me some tea, please."

"What kind?"

"Black," he grunted through his teeth, shoving the spade deep in with his foot.

His boots would require a thorough cleaning.

In five minutes he was back inside, cramming into Helena's small bathroom. Large panel of milky white glass let in abundance of light without sacrificing privacy, but it was still too exposed for him. And too small. Tiny space was filled with a toilet, a simple sink and moderate shower. Once that would suit him just fine. An eternity ago. Now, he held bathtubs in high esteem. His own house was fitted with a very stable and adequately sized tub, elliptical and even in height. He could easily fit in and stretch, which was what he intended to do right after bringing Helena back home.

"Tony?"

The name startled him. He turned around, drying his hands on a towel hanging by the sink, a questioning look in his eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. Was planning out the rest of the afternoon."

"The tea is ready."

"I'll be right there."

What if she wouldn't like to get back with him tonight?

He came out to find her sitting on the long slab of concrete which ran through the side of the cottage and then out on the inner terrace. She had some pillows and blankets to make it more cozy, using them to form a shezlong of sorts. Mugs waited by her side, steaming and inviting with a rising streak of bergamot aroma.

"I made earl grey," she said.

Bane nodded, sitting by her side, elbows on knees, warming his hands on hot ceramic.

"You never called me by my name before."

She scoffed and sipped her drink to gain a bit of time. Hide her uneasiness.

"I admit it still feels weird. To even think of you as 'Tony'."

He nodded again. No wonder, he didn't think of himself that way either.

"Would you mind if I found a nickname for you?"

"Nickname."

"An endearment," she precised. "For me and only me to call you with."

Leaning back he mulled over the idea. In the background Doris Day sang how she loved someone a bushel and a peck.

"That could work," he admitted finally, eliciting a relieved sigh from Helena. "Do you have anything in mind?"

"I think it should come naturally. I'll run things over you as they come, how about that?"

"That's acceptable."

They sipped tea enjoying naive songs. Early evening settled gradually over the sea.

Bane had at the tip of his tongue an admission how used he got to the calm familiarity they shared. It couldn't last, not with his burning desire to excel and always push further. But for now it was perfect just as it was.

"Would you like to go for a stroll while there's still light out?"

He looked at the sky, judging how many minutes of daylight were still left.

"A short one."

"Let's go then. I want to see where we have some wildflowers, since I won't be able to buy an arrangement for Grace. I was thinking of getting her lily of the valley bouquet, I think I saw some by the edge of trees there," she said, pointing to the forest nearby.

Bane shrugged on his jacket, while Helena went back to the hanger to get her coat and a scarf. He stopped her when she passed him, inspecting the bruises on sides of her throat before she hid them again under hair and wool.

"I will make it up to you," he promised.

She smiled taking his hands away and set out, a brisk pace, purposeful and steady.

"So… if I wanted a swimming pool would you get one built for me?" she asked once they were out on tarmac leading to the beach. From there they would go up the slope, their back to the sea, to a small cliff and then to a narrow meadow stretching before the treeline.

"Why would you need a swimming pool?"

"Surprisingly, for swimming."

Bane shook his head, stopping her to point to some bluebells. They crouched over and she used a pair of scissors she brought to cut some stems. Bane helped with his knife.

"Is the whole ocean not enough for you?"

"It's cold and murky and unrestricted," she argued.

"Beautiful."

"Dangerous."

He snorted derisively.

"I'm not getting you a pool."

Frowning at him from across the patch of flowers she tried one more time.

"Well, the Olsen's have one. And Calmeyer's. And that little weird lady who lives in the big white house at the crossroads."

"No."

He grunted, getting up with a huff. They set uphill, heading towards the forest where white dots of lilies were already visible.

"What about an infinity pool?"

"What is that?"

"A very small pool with a turbine generating a current. It's great for back problems I hear."

"I don't have any."

"Sure."

"There is no need marring this landscape for you to soak once or twice." He paused. "A yacht on the other hand…"

"Is that why there is a pier?"

"Perhaps."

"You slimy bastard!"

"You can't have it all, my love."

"I beg to differ," she taunted, hiding her nose in flowers. They didn't smell much, mostly of greenery and weeds, so she straightened with a slight scowl.

"I always wanted to learn sailing," he offered, an explanation unexpected but not unheard of.

"Like a pirate?" She perked up visibly.

The jab was slight, but still made Bane chuckle.

"A corsair," he corrected, leaning down to yank some flowers out as he passed them.

"Oh, right."

He handed her more bluebells, mingled with some wild buttercups.

"If you need to exercise you could go to my pilates class."

"You teach pilates?" She teased him again, knowing exactly what he meant. The bunch of flowers was a handful already and she switched them around to distribute the yellows evenly around.

"No, I'm merely practicing."

"For those back problems you don't have?"

"Perhaps."

"Is that how you keep all this… bulk?" any opportunity to look him over was good, but now Helena exaggerated the appreciation she had for his still formidable physique.

"No."

"Okay, then." Then it hit her. "Wait. When did you start going to a pilates class?"

"After our talk by the fire. I went to see a specialist and he recommended activities to ease some of the strain."

"That's wonderful!"

Bane snorted. "Grace is attending the same class."

"Is she? Did you work on mending that peculiar first impression you made?"

"I might have made some progress with her."

"I bet you have!" She laughed, delighted with the idea of Grace warming to Bane's presence in her life. "So, will you show me how to stretch myself?"

It turned out she wasn't as flexible as he thought much to their dismay.

* * *

 **As you can see i wasn't bulshitting you with how my mood improved. :) I'm halfway into the next chapter, all looks well. Although I try to forget how I promised to finish that other story, the one I started back like... ten years ago. Shoosh for now. It will come to me, eventually.**

 **So, a reader here (yes, you Chey, and thanks again for that!) suggested I give Bane a nickname tied to his field of work. A name of a constellation, perhaps. I was thinking long and hard about it, but can't decide on one, nothing seems good enough. So I'll try to incorporate some ideas about it in two chapters I have left in here. If you have any comments, please, don't ever hesitate to give me a piece of your mind! :)**

 **Review responses:**

 **Sxevlbtch: Still love the name. :) Is Mr Brown Mr Wayne? Well, all I can say now is that we'll know for sure in the next installment after that.**

 **Lia: Thank you kindly, but remember I have an amazing proof-reader (coincidentally, she's not a native herself, so that is pretty amazing indeed!). I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter. As for my whereabouts, I have to confess I would love to stay as secretive as I can. At least here, out in the open. I'm European, all I can say.**

 **WorryFree: Wait no longer! Though, I hope the diminished intensity in this chapter was still to your liking.**

 **An anonymous Guest: Was it heartwrenching in a good way?**

 **Splendiferous7: Again, thanks for your kind words. Again, hearing that someone does what I still do too (ie. reading instead of sleeping 'because it just came out OMG, yes, finally') is the best boost I could ever get. Again, hope you still enjoy.**

* * *

 **PS. I made two very minor changes in previous chapters. Needed to gain a few days. No one noticed, right?**


	8. Lupus

**And now for something completely different.**

 **We interrupted our scheduled programme to bring you sweet relief of pointless smut.**

 **The interlude is sponsored by reader's attention toward the subject, most notably Adarya, who has been lobbying for 'November' themed chapters since I suggested whipping up some extras. :)**

 **For your reading pleasure, the "November" collection, instalment number two. Set in chapter 13 of "The Scientist", guess where exactly.**

 **R &R!**

 **(Review responses at the end)**

* * *

 _Lupus, or how to tame the beast._

 _In which the sheep sheds her skin in favour of wolf's pelt, and it turns out the wolf doesn't mind._

* * *

"He wants you."

James stood at the precipice of Helena's room, leaning on the doorframe.

She hummed and never stopped writing.

"Did he say right now?"

"Technically, no."

"I'd like to refresh myself before I go, if that's okay."

"Get to it then."

A twist in her chair brought their eyes together; Helena's sharp gaze under a frown versus his steady look of indifference.

Right. He didn't care. Not about her, not about her work, not about her comfort.

Helena cleaned her tools, keeping the guard in her peripheral, then set to the armoire for the clothes. There weren't many to choose from. She was down to the last pair of lacy underwear, one pair of ankle short socks, two tank tops and leggings she never wore other than as additional insulation under her pants.

"Do you know when I'll get my things from the laundering?"

"Maybe in the evening."

"How does it work around here? Who takes care of it?" She inquired, opening every cupboard just to make sure she didn't omit a garment.

James never replied. She didn't think he would.

At the very bottom was her last resort kind of outfit. A set she packed originally in dim hope of getting a date, aware the possibility of meeting someone while out at the cottage in the woods was more than slim. But she prepared anyway, taking with only the good undies, nice night shifts and this. The heavy guns of female fashion. Classic black stilettos, good quality stockings and a dress to kill.

Well, she was out of options. Might as well try to convince Bane he should get her some new stuff for the reminder of winter if he wanted her working instead of bedridden. Although, she shouldn't use that particular word, she thought with a smirk. The fucker might find that an alluring prospect.

Ten minutes later she was ready to go. There weren't many things she could do makeup wise, and she didn't bother too much - it would all be smudged by the end of the night. Some mascara and black kohl around her eyes were enough to keep her steady gaze striking.

She winked at few men when James led her through the courtyard, his usual brisk pace impeded by Helena's choice of footwear. Her steps were slow and measured, careful on cobbled expanse of ground between her part of the compound and Bane's turret. The shoes would probably be ruined anyway, but the glimmer of irritation in stoic guard was her reward for this small sacrifice. He glared at mercenaries catcalling Helena, sending a mute warning and a reminder with sparse turning of his head. Bane's plaything - out of the question, out of their respective beds.

When they arrived, he gave her the customary once over; she once thought it was to see if she was okay, but now she knew it had more to do with him checking if the delivery, so to speak, was conducted without a hitch.

She twirled around under his inspection.

"You think he'll hate it?"

Again, no response. Unless she'd want to count his derisive snort as one.

Opening the door took some effort, so she waited for James to pry the heavy wing away from the frame. She stepped in and helped closing massive plane of wood, leaning on it with her back. Smiled when she spotted Bane.

"Hi," she said, eyeing him appreciatively.

He replied with a simple hello. Fingers of his right hand traced absentmindedly on inner sewing of his combat slacks, luring Helena's gaze to the vee of his legs. She licked her lips.

"I was thinking about some things we haven't done yet," he said. Watched her watching him, calculating her reactions.

"Have you now?" She grinned wolfishly; strolling around the sofa where he sat sprawled comfortably. Eyes never leaving his form. "Tell me more."

Bane arched one brow, speculative. She challenged him with an arrogant tilt of her head before she stepped behind his back. He visibly tensed… but his palm never stopped moving.

"I have a fancy for your lips today," he said.

She stopped to his left, just a step away from appearing in his peripheral.

"Hmm, my lips, you say." She let the sentence trail off expectantly while she turned around, trailing her fingers delicately over the back of his neck.

Bane watched as she moved to her previous spot, leaning on the door. His hand openly rubbed on his crotch.

"That is a nice dress," he said conversationally.

Helena smoothed her palm from waist to hip, and back up resting it just at the top of her leg.

"Yeah, I've run out of clothes and decided to assemble an outfit to show you how I need some new ones."

"Indeed?"

"Well, just look how thin this fabric is." She gestured to her chest, where lace of her bra peeked seductively in places. "No protection against cold weather."

"I will keep you warm," he supplied.

"And how will you accomplish that from this distance?"

"I would have to conduct an experiment, but I have an inkling what could get you hot."

She fought to stay sombre, but the absurdity of the exchange made her grin uncontrollably.

"I have a better idea," she said, biting her lip when he moved his palm up to slide under his shirt. "You do what I tell you and then, maybe, I will let you touch and see for yourself how thin this dress really is."

Bane's eyes gleamed with mirth.

"Tell me what to do then," he challenged.

"You're on a good track."

"I need specific instructions."

Movement of his fingers was visible in the rippling beneath the shirt whenever his knuckles flexed; he was tracing some shallow scars, sliding along ridges of muscles. He relaxed against the back of the sofa, head cocked to the side a bit, an amused glint in his eyes.

What would he look without the mask, with the obvious smile out in the open?

"I'm at your command," he reminded.

It was so easy to believe him. The illusion of power was enough to have her stand a bit taller, keep her back tiny bit more straight.

"I want you to stroke your neck."

His eyebrows raised a fraction, but he complied almost immediately, free hand grazing his shirt on its way up to its mark. With just his fingertips he scaled the column of his neck, clavicle, jugular to chin, then back down under the hem of the mask, to the side and back. Muscles in his arm shifted, hinting at play of fingers pressing harder than before. He sighed, relaxing further into his own ministrations.

"Oh, you do like that," Helena said, voice sounding dirty even to her. "I'd rather do this myself, but with the way you are now, so deliciously cooperative, I think I'll watch you play some more."

Husky, sultry, and just a little bit vulgar. Just enough to show she really was affected by the sight of him. He knew anyway. It showed in the way he eventually straightened both arms to brace them comfortably on the backrest.

"Naughty, Mrs Wolf. Who would have thought?"

"You would. Now, take off that shirt."

Practiced and swift, he pulled the collar over his head, making a show of raising his hands and throwing the garment behind himself.

The sight made her gasp.

"Stay like this."

Another amused look came her way, but he complied yet again, resting with arms bent back over the backrest. The position highlighted every centimetre of his sculpted body, from massive biceps framing his masked face, through thick neck, down powerful planes of chest and stomach, to the unmistakable swollen part of his groin.

She gulped down a moan, but let herself exhale. It came out shaky and Bane chuckled openly. He'd let her trace every rippling muscle with her tongue, feel the vibrations of his voice with her lips sliding over his sternum, press on skin hardened with scars. She wanted all of it, and more. For now, she was set on feasting her eyes, for once able to appreciate every part of the man who could reduce her to a panting animal in a matter of minutes.

What was his secret?

His body was formidable. Attractive to her, although there was no question that many people would find him overbearing to say the least. The mask and filtered voice added undeniable mystery; the danger a spice she couldn't shake. Nor would she ever think of having a thing, whatever it was, with him without it. Bane was a mercenary, kidnapped her and held hostage against her will. Still, his domination, calm and quiet most of the time, was what brought out the primal and primitive feelings in her. A masculine figure to cling to, both literally and metaphorically, a prime example of an alpha male, a protector, a warrior.

Yet, there was still a side of something else she was drawn to, something much more elusive than simple physical characteristics. More than what he did; rather what he was, deep at his core, as a human being.

But that were thoughts for later, she chided herself, licking at dried lips, tracing a shadow of longing in his eyes. Heels clicked as she started circling him again, keeping appreciative stare up as long as possible.

He craned his neck to watch her stand behind him. His palms were hanging loosely, right at her hips, separated merely with two centimetres of air. If he flexed his arms, he could grab her; force her underneath him, or however else he'd like to have her. Yet, he chose to wait at her next command. The game they played was too nice to break, at least for now.

He bid his time, confidently measuring her with hooded eyes, sure he would get what he wanted in the end. It was frustrating, how he could be sure of it, and she was left with guessing the boundaries, looking for hints, piecing up information from scraps. This meagre amount of control he gave her now was liberating. She couldn't forget however, it was granted, not earned.

She frowned, tracing veins on his biceps, ticklishly light touch resulting in an uncharacteristic squirm from Bane.

"Do not move," she said, surprising even herself with the steady and low threat in her tone. Automatically, she lifted her hand, stilling just far enough to show she would continue… if he listened.

He stilled, at first tensing up in reflexive response to the challenge to his authority. Then he was back to relaxing, curious and interested in what she had in store.

That was the question, what did she want him to do?

"I want to watch you touch yourself."

He chuckled.

"Where?"

"Surprise me."

Implication behind her words was more than obvious. He looked like he was ready to comply.

He didn't. With a grunt he lowered his arms, flexing them out to get the circulation working properly again, popping joints with a satisfied sigh. Then he resumed the action she appreciated when she entered, lazy stroking at his thighs, around the juncture of his legs.

A smile he couldn't see bloomed on her lips. She slid her knuckles along his shoulders, enjoying the way he bowed his head slightly to give her better access to his neck when she neared it.

"Very good," she praised. "But you're actually touching your pants." Her nails bit in tender places on either side at the base of his neck, making him snap his head straight.

An angry vocalization from behind the mask should have frightened her.

"Let me show you what I had in mind." She faked the exasperation in her voice, never stopping her palms sliding over his skin. Once she started it was addictive, the warmth of his body transferring to hers, gathering at the pit of her stomach. Her fingers sneaked up, fleetingly caressing patches of his head between straps of the mask, skin over his skull littered with small scars. One step and she pressed him to her stomach, slightly to the side, and bent down, sliding left hand surely to the hem of his slacks, keeping one palm pressing his head to her body.

It was unnecessary, he crammed in the hollow at her hip himself, turning his face away to the side.

She stopped, fingers teasing him just beneath the fabric, at the border of shoving her hand right down to grab his cock. Following movement of his mask she peeked where he seemed to be looking, curious of the source of his distraction. She froze completely hearing a whine escape his throat.

He was looking at their image on the glass.

"I could smell you if not for that mask. I could turn around and lick into your pussy, while fisting my cock, so you could watch me come as you orgasm." He sounded like a different man, full of yearning, not really sure if all was as he thought. Eyes glued to the reflection on the window he kept talking, quietly as if to himself. "I could just stand up and fuck you bent like this. Do you have any idea how your ass looks when you're on your tiptoes, presenting your wet pussy? Fuck. I could do all that."

She knew he wouldn't let her see his face; the want made him confess his longing, but from saying what he craved and getting it were obstacles she couldn't see him just brushing away. No matter how hard she wished it to be otherwise, he was her captor. Needed to stay alert around her, not to give away more information than he could safely part with.

The line between what was safe was too blurred as it was.

Bitter resentment showed in tightening of her throat and she swallowed it down, determined to use Bane however he'd let her, as long as he was inclined to stay compliant under her command.

"Perhaps you could, but none of that was my instruction."

She forced him to turn back to face her, retracting her palm with an unkind scratch up his chest.

He hissed, panting, following her eyes with his when she stood back up.

"Open your pants."

She didn't watch him when she went back to the spot by the door. But she could hear, and it was enough to know he listened.

"Slide them down your thighs." Mild order was given when she pressed her back to the door, a mirror of Bane's usual position, complete with hands folded under her breasts. He didn't have to know she did it to manage excited trembling that broke as soon as he touched his zipper.

He probably realized anyway.

"That's enough," she instructed, satisfied with the way bare skin peeked between thick fabric pooling over his knees and hem of his boxers. "Slide your hand over your cock now."

He teased, two fingers marking an outline of his flesh standing proudly under thin cover. Not leaving much to imagination, even if she hadn't seen him before. Helena gulped down saliva and he gave her a knowing look, no doubt smirking behind the grille of his mask.

"Take it out."

"So rude," he murmured. She didn't care what he thought; her eyes were glued to his hands. Left one stretched the hem down, while he raised his hips and pulled out his stiff penis out. Almost involuntarily, he stroked, once, then twice.

Then, she snapped out of it.

"Stop it," she said. "I didn't tell you can touch yourself just yet."

"My apologies."

He mocked, even though his stomach was tensing in regular intervals, his breath pausing slightly before exhales.

"You enjoy this way too much."

She stepped closer, enjoying how he stilled, how his hips shifted slightly closer, knees spread minutely wider apart. Watching him swallowing always did something to her, perhaps because she just knew he must have been biting his lips in anticipation. Out of her reach. Always promising he could use them in ways that guaranteed her pleasure.

Three steps and she was looking down at him, palms resting comfortably on her hips.

"Now you may continue," she said.

He frowned slightly and turned his head to the side, but his right palm unerringly grasped at his cock, stroking roughly. The movement was practiced and careless, natural and fluid. He stuttered a bit when she carefully lowered to her knees, helping herself stabilize with one palm braced on his thigh.

He tried to push his underwear and pants lower, to get more space, but she tsked at him impatiently.

"You're really bad at keeping to orders given," she complained. "Hands off."

He stopped but didn't move otherwise, weighing his options no doubt. What kept him here, listening to her commands anyway?

Wolfish smile crept on her face once again when he decided to indulge her and rest his arms on each side of him.

"You're treading on thin ice," he warned. But he gulped again, shamelessly eyeing her cleavage now that he was the one looking down at her.

"What is life without some danger to spice things up?"

His low chuckle pleased her, especially when it formed into a moan at the end when her palms slid up his thighs. Fingers hooked at the hem and she yanked his boxers down.

He tensed his back to help her with rising of his hips but she was having none of it.

"Uh huh," she frowned shaking her head.

Bane narrowed his eyes.

"Careful," he growled.

"Obey, and you will be rewarded," she reminded with a smack of her lips.

He huffed a quick scoff, but held still.

"Wise decision."

Her palms went back to his thighs, applying enough pressure to make him flex his muscles. His cock bobbed with the movement, swayed slightly closer to her lips. Humid breath travelled teasingly over the tip. He smelled clean and earthy, an undertone of familiar soap over his tangy natural fragrance. She left chaste kisses on each side of his cock, teasing with warmth coming and going. Quick lick at the glands left him straining for more.

Helena stroked her palms over his hips, thumbs dipping into delicate valleys between his stomach and legs. Involuntary shudder and a gasp rewarded her attention. She smiled and sucked in the head, moving her hands higher to feel the muscles working his abdomen in tight little snaps. She let him dictate the pace, loosely holding him on her tongue, too fleetingly to bring release, but pleasurable all the same.

"Suck me," he groaned.

Looking up she opened her mouth a bit wider and watched his reaction as her tongue stroked over the thick vein at the underside. Smiled when his throat worked visibly with a gulp. A wheezing, shaky breath left the mask.

A second after, she pressed her nails viciously to his skin, sliding them down his hard stomach. His hips jutted out in reaction, visible shiver rocked his body and she used the movement to gulp his cock down as far as he could.

His hands flew to hold her hair, to keep her closer. Bane moaned as he watched her work him sloppily and eagerly to release, doubling over her with a desperately whispered 'fuck' on his lips.

She looked up at him again, patted on his wrists to let go.

He did, leaning back on the sofa with some effort.

"Tsk, tsk," she mocked licking her lips.

Bane still panted like a runner on the finish line. His palms fisted by his sides.

"Finish it," he ordered.

Helena straightened, smoothing the dress down her hips. Heels clicked away on hardwood floor when she moved slowly behind him one more time.

Bane sighed, frustrated, and looked back. She stood by the entrance to the bedroom.

"Come on, big guy." Ink stained fingers played delicately over lace at her neckline. "Why don't you finish it yourself?"

Scoffing, he shook his head.

"Careful, or you'll get more than you bargained for," he cautioned. His boots thudded to the floor, discarded with simple minded eagerness.

"The idea here was to get me hot," she reminded.

Bane stretched on the sofa, sliding off his slacks. He stood up with a slight grunt. "And did we?"

The way she watched him stalk closer naked, never taking her eyes off hand stroking his cock lazily, didn't leave any room for doubt on the matter. Still, he angled his head to the side, unoccupied hand bracing on the doorframe over their heads, crowding her in the entrance.

"Tell me," he whispered.

It was her turn to pant and gulp down her desire. She watched as his arm moved rhythmically up and down, almost unconsciously whining low in her throat.

"You want me to finish like this?" he asked, a salacious, mocking growl. Muscles in his abdomen tensed sporadically with little involuntary tremors of pleasure.

Helena finally looked up.

"I want you to fuck me."

Bane snarled, the confirmation making him feral. He grabbed the fabric of the dress at the neckline and yanked, tearing it in half like it was nothing more than a sheer curtain. The movement was so violent Helena stumbled few steps back, into the room, laughing over his enthusiasm. He followed, pushing her lightly to sit on the bed.

"You were right, it's not enough to shield you against anything," he taunted, throwing blue fabric to the floor after one last appreciative glance. Kneeling over her, he palmed her breasts through the lacy bra. "This seems as feeble."

Fingers hooked between the cups and with a quick flex they were disconnected.

Helena giggled again, incredulous. His strength was clearly visible in his imposing posture, but she tended to forget about it.

Her back graciously slid down on the mattress.

Bane slid his hands to her hips. Thumb grazed her clit, forcing out a moan.

"You're hot alright," Bane noticed. He pressed his knuckles to her opening, testing the moisture seeping through the lace. "And wet."

"I'm always wet for you," she moaned.

That was it. He knew she wanted him, and he wanted her right back with a simplicity nothing else in his life held before. Quick efficient movements of his hands had her turned on her belly, giggling into the sheets as he kneeled behind her hips. He pressed his cock between her thighs, teasing himself with her soft skin on the sides and rough graze of damp lace on the top. One hand held her hair, soft strands caressing the sensitive skin between his fingers.

Helena closed her eyes, relishing the controlled aggression, slight yanking of her tresses and near painful grip on her hip. Coiled power, ready to be released at any given moment, but never unrestrained. Even mere thought of how he dominated her from his position behind aroused her. To think he let her order him around was intoxicating.

"Bane," she whispered. She knew he liked hearing his name in this breathy, needy version. He liked being wanted like this.

"Yes?"

She giggled again.

"Will you fuck me now, please?"

Hands caressing her hips, he pretended to mull over the thought.

"I seem to have an obstacle still," he noticed.

Thumbs hooked behind the lace, stretching the panties away from her hips.

"You don't have to rip them, you know," she said, voice steady and serious all of a sudden.

"But I like to."

She sighed as the fabric gave under the stretch, letting him slide it over the exposed skin.

Without any more teasing, he guided his cock inside, the gentle popping sound the only accompaniment to their relieved sighs.

"I fucking love this moment," she moaned, forehead buried into the sheets, voice muffled.

Bane didn't respond. He was close from the play before, and the wet grip she had over him fuddled his brain. His hips worked in a steady thorough pace, hands hooked at Helena's waist to keep bringing her closer. Over and over in a hypnotic daze.

He listened to her muffled gasps, trying not to obsess over the way she clutched the sheets in her teeth, and clawed at them with her twitching fingers.

Nearly there.

He had to close his eyes not to look at his cock sliding into her cunt, but it only heightened his pleasure.

"More," she moaned.

He stilled with a chuckle, exasperated.

"How about you work for it yourself, hmm?"

He let go, straightened and widened his knees a bit to brace. Watched how muscles in Helena's back shifted as she realized he wasn't joking, and she really would have to keep moving herself to get what she wanted.

Craning her head back she shot him a vengeful look.

"Are you sure you'll be able to handle it?"

He frowned and smacked her ass lightly.

"Worry about yourself," he warned.

It was rich coming from him, but she was embarrassingly close to coming when he slapped her, unable to hold back a moan. Her hips flexed and then the movement back seemed like the only natural thing to do, and then a repeat, and again. Biting her lips she moved to and from, impaling herself over and over, relishing every stroke and bump of their groins.

Bane held onto her sides, shifting his hands with her but never guiding her movements. She heard him groan, then his hips flexed, pushing towards her when she was about to move away. He gripped her too strongly, shoved too fast and too deep, and she complained with a strangled yelp.

He was trembling, tensed and doubled down over her, his cock buried to the hilt but still seemingly grinding further.

With a sigh he let go after a minute, dazed with release, panting as he watched her turn on her back before him. He rested sitting on his haunches, both hands braced on either knee. She nudged his chest with her foot, making him grab it to stop her, his thumb stroking her ankle.

"I'm not finished. " She complained.

"No, you're not."

Pursing her lips she gave him a steady stare.

"I don't want your fingers."

"I don't care what you want. You will get what I give you and be content with it."

She frowned, but couldn't fight him when he pushed two digits inside her, stroking her clit with the thumb of his other hand. His palm was so big he covered her whole lower abdomen, and used tensing muscles to guide his movements. Her body never lied to him.

She tensed nervously, tried to move his palm away.

"I don't want it," she tried feebly.

"What? You don't want to come?" He snarled. He covered her with his body, pressing a fraction too hard, holding her by the jaw and never stopping the in-and-out movement of his fingers in her cunt. "You don't want the pleasure? Don't want the completion?"

She gasped, aware of the thin line she was walking now between angering him and exciting; it seemed to always be there, but now the path was narrowed impossibly and she had to fall on one side. It was her decision which one would it be.

"I don't want to come with your fingers, I want to come with your cock." Looking him straight in the eye she left her mouth agape, then slowly licked along the upper lip. He hovered down so close she felt huffs of breath escaping his mask. Her hips swayed unerringly with his shoving hand, taking him in even as she complained about it. He was careless, hitting her clit with the flat of his palm on every stroke, threatening to get her to come even despite her protests. He knew exactly what she liked, what got her going. Even this little exchange was suspiciously close to debate; were he really serious in his threats, she wouldn't have a say on the matter. But he watched her lick her lips, his cock hardening slowly, pressed to the soft underside of her thigh.

"I want you to lick your come off my cunt and then fuck me again, and this time I want to watch you shudder as you finish."

He whined, bringing his forehead to hers, closing his eyes. His Achilles heel was so obvious, but it pained Helena to exploit it.

Then again, it pained her more to keep him doing what he did now.

"Do you imagine how would I taste? How it would feel on your tongue, my pussy with your come? How I'd moan and beg, holding on to you, coming over and over while you'd lick me?"

He was fully hard again, pressing uncomfortably on the inside of her hip, hot and still slightly slick from their previous coupling. A moan, long and drawn, turning into a feral growl rumbled in his chest, building as it went into full-fledged bark.

The hand that was holding her jaw moved a long time ago to brace him on the bed. He used it to shift now, exchanging his fingers in her pussy with his cock, and then he smeared the wetness on her lips.

"I can smell me. And you." she whispered into his mask.

He closed his eyes again, caged her, both arms braced at the elbows on either side of her head. His forehead never lifted up, and she was overwhelmed with the feeling of Bane surrounding her everywhere, like a living cage. He was just that, she realized, holding on to rigid biceps, hooking her legs at his flexing sides. He was the force keeping her in check, making her idle with content, complacent, passive. She never wanted to be away from the possibility of sharing time and space with him, be it working, fucking or doing nothing at all.

She felt drugged, the pleasure drawing out in strings of movement, passionate and insistent, and unhurried all at the same time. Her moans came continuously, rising in volume when Bane's hips ground into hers, morphing into breathy gasps with stronger strikes. Breaths short and shallow, she was dizzy, almost as if there was not enough air, as if he was taking it from her along with everything else.

"Look at me," he ordered.

She gulped, surprised with how hoarse he sounded, how affected.

He leaned back a bit, shifting to the side, changing angle of his thrusts. Bracing on left arm he took her hand, clawing a minute before on his bicep, and pressed it wordlessly to the grille of his mask.

She understood. Fingers stroked over the metal tubing, then slid down to his neck and further to hang on his shoulder.

Bane never let his eyes fall from her face, holding her gaze, watching her when he plunged inside her, slowly now, thoroughly.

It was too much. Everything felt so intense, every touch too sharp, every breath too heavy, every spasm too sudden. Helena couldn't suppress her moans, making shallow scratches all over Bane's shoulder and arm, at the brink of release. She was desperate to go, completely at his mercy.

"Please," she begged, unable to formulate more than one word. "Please."

Then it happened, with a pained sigh above her, and a tender hand pressed to her back. He held her close, hips grinding even through a jolt of her body, encouraging her with short bursts of words huffed out through gritted teeth, enduring in a position that was best for her, for as long as she needed, his own comfort and pleasure forgotten in the face of her orgasm. Her neck craned back with force of her release, an uncontrolled spasm, tearing out a screamlike whine from her lips.

Bane waited to see if she was okay.

Heart hammering like it wanted to break out of her chest she settled, finally, unclenching fingers from the death grip on his body. Nails broken and red rimmed with blood, fingers leaving brownish smudges on his skin, she patted him on the chest, nodding with a smile.

He lingered a moment, judging for himself her reactions. But even Bane had his limits, so he gave up and shuffled into more comfortable position, restarting his thrusting. Still mindful of her reactions, she was sure of it.

Restraint. Control. That was at the root of her attraction, her desire. Deep settled yearning to be overpowered and awed, but above all - wanted. He knew and it showed in all the tender gestures he let her see, the little indulgences. And that was his secret, the gentleness that showed in most unexpected ways, kindness that had to be buried deep inside him, never planted there but an autonomous part of the man, despite what he had become through storms in his life.

She saw it now, when he kept himself in check by a thread, building up to that place where he could relinquish all control.

He let her see him come apart, shuddering and moaning, just as she asked.

After, he stayed on top of her, panting in slowing increments with head buried in sheets beside her, shivering under the caress of her fingers tracing haphazard patterns on his flanks.

"See, listen to me and be rewarded," she mumbled, glazing over the precipice of sleep. Discomfort kept her awake, the abundance of moisture pooling between her thighs, sweat cooling on exposed parts of her skin, overheating where Bane touched.

The mercenary chuckled and rolled over, stretching with what looked like a yawn. If he even could do that with his mask on.

"Thank you for the use of your nethers," he chuckled.

"Mhm, anytime." It came out without thinking on her part. So true, though. He did have her whenever he wanted.

She frowned at nothing in particular.

"I'm getting itchy. Would you bring me under the shower?"

"Walk."

"I'm not sure I still can."

She yelped when he picked her up, one hand under her knees, other braced around her shoulder. Shielding her with his body, he started the water. Even the mist of droplets bouncing off his frame made her shiver, the actual spray had to be icy. He turned her towards it only when it warmed enough to steam the glass pane separating them from the rest of the world.

"Perfect," she purred. The water was exquisite on her overworked back, soothingly spreading her hair down. Bane held her up without a word, an indecipherable quality in his eyes. Was it satisfaction?

Perhaps.

She didn't linger on it, deciding to focus on getting the feeling back in her legs.

She would think about it tomorrow.

* * *

 **Please comment?**

 **Pleeeeeease!**

 **I'm getting back to "Sculptor" after this; the Easter brunch scene is mostly done, needs some work but it's basically there. There will be a return of our lovely mercenary Bane; at least some part of him. Hope this plot-important but a bit OOC Emotional!Bane didn't tire you out.**

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 **Review responses here**

 **Guest again: You cruel person... I totally get you. Although I do like a good HEA myself. Eventually. With a twist. You get my drift, right?**

 **Magneto: I'm honoured. Grateful to have you unlurk to leave such kind words. I thrive on comments, so feel free to leave a piece of your mind anytime!**


	9. Sculptor, 4 of 5

**Yo!**

 **So I've been gone for a while. Sorry about that, but I was in a bad place. Let me take this opportunity to apologize profusely for a very immature and foolish act, one I hope not many people were aware of. It was a one-off thing, never to be repeated again.**

 **Once more, my deepest regrets for a failure to deliver the highest quality of service.**

 **Now that this is (partly) taken care of, I present to you part 4 of chapter 3 in the ongiong series that is "constellations."**  
 **As always, I do hope you enjoy.**

 **Comment responses at the very bottom.**

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 _Sculptor, or shaping the future one day at a time._

 _In which we learn that an intelligent man who bears a lot of old scars is the epitome of danger, and the fruit ripens best under glaring rays of sun._

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 **Part 4**

 **The Fruit**

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Helena slept in Bane's cottage again, alone in 'her' room. It was always slightly different to get up knowing someone else was there, especially since last night. After stretching she sat up, rubbing her eyes and scratching scalp with a yawn to get rid of last sand of sleep from her head. The talks were exhausting, but productive; she could feel a sense of repose already seeping tentatively in a warm gust around her.

But then she remembered her date today. The dreaded brunch.

There was still time, she thought, desperately trying to untie the knot her stomach preferred as of late as its default state. So many things to worry about and she chose the most pleasant one as the topic of her fears. Stupid. To think she almost grasped tranquillity before she crushed it herself like an idiot.

The hallway floor was pleasantly cool under her bare feet; a smooth wooden path towards the living area, still somewhat dark but smelling enticingly of fresh pastries and bread.

She stood at the threshold, in the same place where Bane pressed her to the wall just two weeks prior, watching the man reading some printouts on the sofa. There was no mask on his face, but he was irritatingly similar to the terrorist she once knew, his broad frame filling the space not only with his bulk, but with palpable confidence radiating off him even in his now relaxed state. The paradigm shifted last night. Maybe he had enough mourning and pitying, and needed a good cleansing of atmosphere to set out to new beginning.

"Good morning," he said, never raising his head from the fine print he was absorbed in.

"Mornin'."

"There are challah buns for breakfast."

"I'm not hungry." She yawned, smiling through it when she saw him raise his head. "You seem rested."

"I slept. You should eat."

"That's always good to hear."

Blatant dismissal of his second remark resulted in Bane's eyes narrowing visibly.

"Eat your breakfast."

"I'm not into sweets in the morning."

"There are other things."

"Not hungry."

"You need to pay better attention to regularity of your diet."

"I have stuff to do. Have to pick flowers for Grace. Choose what I'm supposed to be wearing at the brunch. Iron clothes. Shower before that. Do my hair." She glanced at the clock. Six AM. "There's so little time."

"We have five hours to get there. It's a ten minute drive."

"As I've said, I don't have time for eating, and it's pointless anyway since we're going for a meal."

With a sigh he got up, strolled so close he almost brushed Helena's body with his. Crouched and threw her over his shoulder.

"What the… Bane!"

"Call me by my actual name, please."

"I'm not in the mood for jokes. Ouch!"

He deposited her at the narrow end of the kitchen bar, leaving her legs hanging off on each side of him.

"I'm not joking."

"What is this then?"

"Breakfast."

"Oh."

Not much she could say to that. He pressed a warm palm to her sternum, keeping her down on the counter.

"I won't be able to eat in this position."

"You misunderstood. I'll be the one doing the eating."

"Oh." The drowned-out sound morphed into a giggle and then a sigh, when he slid hem of her nightshirt up, exposing her undergarments, then wasted no time in mouthing at the juncture of her thighs through the fabric.

"You might want to take off the wrapping," she proposed, a little out of breath but perplexed more than aroused.

"I know what I'm doing," he growled.

Maybe he did, but it had little effect on Helena. Pleasant tingle as he stroked her legs and rubbed stubbly cheeks on her skin never rose to the insistent itch, nevermind the feverish burn of need to have him everywhere. Meanwhile, he already was hooking his fingers at the hem of her panties, straightening to slide them down.

She used the opportunity to place both feet on his chest in a teasing, but restraining gesture.

"It's not really working for me."

Bane scoffed, keeping a hard gaze on her hips, then thighs, following path of the fabric he was taking off of her.

"You misunderstood again, Helena. This is not for you."

Something in the quality of his voice frightened her more than what he said, what he meant by his words. She observed him bending her knees carefully with his arm on the underside of them, the gentleness laced with something sinister, almost cruel, when he slid her panties off entirely and put them in his pocket. The gesture was familiar, she saw it before.

Right.

"Where are we?" she asked.

He looked up at her, sharp movement of his head reflected in play of muscles visible on his chest.

"Tell me where we are right in this moment," she pressed, trying to sound calmer than she felt.

Realization was evident on his face, of his stumble and her awareness of it. He hunched over Helena, still imposing but now unthreatening, braced on the counter at her sides. His head hung low, so she couldn't see his face anymore.

"For a while I was somewhere else," he admitted.

Then he surprised her, bowing down to her stomach and licking across the scars there. Muscles tensing she threaded fingers through his hair, trying to gain a semblance of control over the situation. She frowned, looking at the ceiling, the lamps over her head a dizzying assembly of circles.

Bane shifted his hands to caress her again, stopping briefly to yank one chair close, to sit while he continued to press open mouthed kisses on her abdomen.

Helena couldn't stop him, didn't have the heart to do it, not when he was so concentrated. She closed her eyes with a sigh, trying to relax into the feeling. Her stomach was still twisted with trepidation, minutes and tasks left until the brunch a constant backfeed in her brain.

The sensation of his warm and wet mouth on her cold and dry nether lips was momentarily unpleasant, a contrast too great to be pleasurable at this stage. She twisted away a bit, feeling him waiting millimetres above her, baiting his breath. When she stilled he resumed, long lick around her core, leaving her shivering from cold and budding irritation.

"This really isn't working for me."

Bane hummed, not deterred in the least.

"Are you listening to me?"

She strained to look at him, able to raise only her head, since he pressed his big palm to her sternum again.

The look that greeted her as she did was frustratingly erotic; she squared her jaw against wave of heat that finally sparkled in her core. Her eyes involuntarily travelled down his splayed hand, thick arm circling around her waist, rising into muscled shoulder. Then there he was, head buried between her legs, just a moment ago lost in the experience of French kissing her pussy.

Now, he was looking up at her, eyes narrowed in the expression she couldn't really place, mouth still working lazily on her body.

She was too stubborn to admit she'd like him to continue.

She was pissed.

He looked fierce and ridiculous at the same time, eager to pleasure her and angry for not participating the way he wanted. Noting her half sceptical, half provoking staring he taunted her, finishing his latest movement with an exaggerated lick, open mouthed and positively obscene.

She thudded her head back on the counter, defeated when they both felt the stab of desire, clenching her muscles, leaving tip of his tongue coated in her essence.

"Shall I stop?"

Fucker, she thought, gritting her teeth and whining lowly in her throat, because he had the audacity to follow that question with another lick, this time languidly circling her clit, engulfing her in his mouth for a long while.

"Shall I stop?" He asked again, infuriating smile audible in the mocking lilt of his words, and then he bit tendon of her thigh, high beside her hip, electing a full-fledged moan and some flailing as she looked to grab him by the head.

He chuckled and deflected, redirecting her palms to the arm still holding her down. She gripped, fingers tense and trembling, on the thick forearm, relishing the play of muscles, splay and warmth of the hand covering her chest.

How did he turn the table this easily?

Helena opened her eyes with a sigh, swallowing and frowning up at him. Bane understood her wordless question. Unerring as ever.

"You're tense, I'm tense, I thought this might be a good way to relax us both." The explanation sounded genuine. Unusual in its lighthearted air.

"What about that episode?"

"Ten seconds long hallucination is hardly an episode." he reasoned. His lips pressed to her stomach again, strengthening his argument. "I must confess, this really is working for me."

Despite herself Helena laughed. So she wasn't in the mood when he started. Okay. Now he had her aroused, and practically laid out as a buffet, and he never left any shred of doubt over how much he liked oral stimulation. Giving and receiving.

Wasn't this the whole point of foreplay, to get to a point of mutual excitement?

A pause in his ministrations and his deep voice, more serious for a change, brought her attention back to the man himself.

"Shall I stop?"

Her thighs trembled a bit, the left caressed with his palm, right braced awkwardly on the edge of the work counter. She was a bit cold and more than a little uncomfortable.

But there was something childlike in his defiance, a perverse challenge giving some semblance of pride over making her wet despite her initial indifference, thinly veiled stubbornness to continue more than the desire to please either of them. Like he had to endure, like giving up halfway would be a failure.

Did she want to stop him from worshipping her body, especially now that he finally wrenched favourable response out of her?

"Oh hell no," she grinned. "Knock yourself out."

Her eager reaction surprised him, so much that she noticed how he relaxed, the tension he was talking about and she didn't see herself before leaving his frame in an instant. She let herself fall back down, boneless and smug.

There was absolutely no point blowing this situation into a problem, dismantling every aspect of it for discussion and observation. So he thought for a while he was somewhere else. It happened. Lingering on the matter accomplished nothing but souring their moods. They both needed distraction of some silly activity, and sex seemed like a gateway drug for leisure, to prepare them for challenges waiting through the rest of the day.

"Where are you?"

She blinked and looked down at Bane, aware that she just spaced out.

"I'm here."

Involuntary twitch of Helena's legs, an upward movement like in preparation to flight, brought a predatory smile to his lips. It never reached his eyes, giving the scribe an idea what his expression might have been most of the time when he was wearing his mask. The stillness with which he regarded her reminded her of a wolf stalking its prey.

He looked lethal. Dangerous. Powerful.

It turned her on like nothing else.

"Are you sure?"

His right hand left her chest and he straightened, looking down at her nearly dispassionately. She did notice his arousal, so the effect was a little off. Or maybe that was his intention, to show her exactly enough to put her at ease.

"Yes?" She managed to whisper out, watching nervously as his palms stilled at her hips. Thumbs teased with delicate stroking at the hollow near her pussy.

He was doing nearly nothing at all. And she felt her breaths grow heavier, her abdomen clench in sweet anticipation, his demeanour affecting her faster and more potently than his actions.

"What's my name?"

He made her laugh, and incredulous rising of her eyebrows smoothing over almost instantly.

That was new. She expected this kind of question from one of her former ingenues, a playful way to ensure the person they were with used them with the knowledge of who was on the other end.

Maybe he wanted to play-pretend?

"Bane," she said in a throaty, buttery tone.

He didn't smile back. His thumbs stilled then pressed painfully for a second. He shook his head, never stopping watching her.

"Oh fuck," she muttered. It was getting her hotter than a tin roof on a sunny day. Probably because she knew deep down it was an excuse, an act to bring them both to the same place. Want and demand, and absolute focus.

Bane narrowed his eyes again, slowly lowering back to his seat, sliding his palms down to her knees, pressing them open even more.

Helena grasped the counter more securely.

He leaned down, looking into her eyes when he licked once at her clit.

"My name."

Shudder went through her at his tone. It was more of a growl than anything. She was sure he used that same exact way of speaking ordering mercenaries around. Her pussy clenched under the fleeting caress of his warm breath.

If not 'Bane' what could she call him?

"Tony, " she gasped out with a little scowl. It sounded wrong.

But he rewarded her, latching onto her clit with mind blowing dedication, putting her legs over his shoulders. That warmed her up alright, especially when he moaned contented over her flesh. She smiled into the sensation of vibrations travelling up her body, lazily playing with her breasts with one idle hand.

"Excellent," he growled.

Helena really was beyond what he meant by that, focused entirely on his actions for a change. Zipper rasped quickly, velcro complained as he yanked on the strap keeping lapels of his slacks together. She couldn't see what he did from his position hidden between her legs, but she had a pretty good idea from the way his right shoulder shifted under her thigh.

The knowledge affected her more than his caress.

"Bane…"

Sudden stop of all contact startled her up. She looked down, propped on her elbow, hard surface of the counter unforgiving under her bones as she shifted her legs for missing purchase.

He was shaking his head, as if displeased. A shit eating grin plastered on slightly glistening lips, a threat almost, as he leant comfortably on his chair.

"Not my name."

Helena frowned, panting, biting her lips when she saw him lick his. Her eyes sneaked down, but the counter was too high, obstructing her view. Regardless, she knew he was still fisting himself.

She swallowed.

"Dear doctor Dorrance," she said spitefully. "Kindly put your mouth back over my pussy, please."

It didn't sound like a plea. Not one bit.

"I think I need some more incentive to continue."

She gasped, and sat upright.

"Oh fuck," she moaned before she could help herself. He was sitting there like her every wet dream, shirtless and relaxed, save for the crucial part of his physique. Sliding dangerously close to the edge she reached to clasp his jaw.

He let her bring him close for a kiss. Sloppy and needy entanglement of mouths and tongues, without a hint of finesse. Pretense was obsolete. She wanted to finish, careless of his intentions, of her own doubts before he got her really aroused, and she didn't care in the least what would be the means to get her there.

"Fuck me Tony," she moaned, still shaking her head in resentment, still unease about the context of what she was saying.

He panted over her mouth, smiling, searching for the right words to describe what he wanted from her.

"I used to think of all your taunts when we emailed. All the times you flirted with me. All the opportunities to ask you for pictures, or videos, or just an outright admittance of your willingness." His hand kept working over his cock, slowly and leisurely, mesmerizing Helena, drawing her gaze away from his face. He kissed her again, brought his free hand to angle her head, fisting a bunch of hair for better grip. "And I denied myself all that. So that one day, perhaps like this one, one day I could sit and hear you say those words. Knowing you want me, and only me, not some construct of your imagination, not a memory of someone else."

There was no chance for her to answer. Once more he licked into her mouth, sinful like a decadent fabric sliding over naked skin, sweeter than the best chocolate, as intoxicating as the smoothest whisky. Rising from his seat he brought her closer, enjoying slide of her skin, tracing soft lines of her neck. Calloused fingers guided her to lay back down, boneless yet again, rendered speechless.

He resumed his original position, sitting on the chair, head buried between her thighs. This time she was perfectly attuned to his every stroke and kiss, moaning with him when he pushed in the right places, when his tongue slid slickly over her clit, when he thumbed her opening. Now, she was burning up, desperate need making her restless. Bane was strangely timid, obviously holding back for some reason.

Helena felt the constrictions building inside her, slowly into feverish inferno, impossible to satisfy without more stimulation.

Then she understood why he said earlier this was for him, not her.

"Please Tony," she whimpered, "please let me finish. Please make me come."

Panting, he moved away, licking her essence off his lips with obvious gusto.

"In or out?"

That harsh tone he used, the hard edge to his stare, brought forward everything she remembered about Bane. But this time, she had to make herself consciously think of him not by his mercenary alias, but by the name he has taken as his. Dorrance the shy astrophysicist. Tony the quirky and faithful friend.

Standing at her feet like the conqueror that he was, fisting his cock in preparation to fuck her silly.

It was for him. She reminded herself.

"Out."

He grinned and then laughed, throwing his head back. Slightly terrifying sight for Helena, braced with her head straining to stay steady, not knowing what he had planned for this answer. Then he gathered her close, sliding into her pussy without effort, and carried her towards the sofa.

There he pounded into her, a delightfully rough treatment just what she needed to get this much more aroused. His harsh grunts were mingling with her loud moans, heavy breaths chopped and uneven. She strained beneath him, arms over her head in an effort to steady herself on the armrest, brace for unrelenting impact of galloping thrusts.

"My name," he gritted out through clenched teeth, taking his cock out, stroking it almost automatically.

"Fuck, Tony," Helena complained, nothing in her head but the impending release that was snatched away.

"Full sentence please," he mocked. He looked elated, on the very brink of orgasm himself.

"I changed my mind, I want you to finish inside," she pleaded.

"A word is a word," he teased. His head lowered over her pussy again, the soft skin there reddened and swollen. Again he gorged on her essence, relishing every sound she made, each feeble attempt to get more of his skin on top of her.

"Please Tony, get in, in, in, please, just put it back in." She babbled, her previous poise forgotten.

He pressed two fingers inside her, fully aware it wouldn't be enough, even with his continuous assault on her clit.

"Fuck yes, just like that," she encouraged, words escaping her in quick short bursts, along with too shallow breaths. She gulped down the air in between moans, thrashing on the pillows of the sofa in search of any kind of relief.

"More?" He asked.

"Yes!"

"Fingers?"

"Fuck you Tony," she whined. "You know I want you to fuck me."

Bane smiled at her phrasing, and kept up his mirth when he slid inside her again. This time he was taking greater risk teasing her like this. His cock swelled at the snug warmth around, at the feel of her nipples under his fingers and in his mouth. She gripped him in a desperate hold, not willing to let him part.

He felt her orgasm before she could voice her satisfaction, the ripples around his body transferring to him in a tidal wave of pleasure.

"Yes, Tony, fuck me just like that!"

He laughed at that, carelessly letting himself indulge into another time at her pussy, feeling under his lips the last tremors rocking her body. He was losing his head, enjoying how she cradled him closer, how she chanted his name, the steady prayer of 'Tony, Tony, Tony' ringing in his ears until he was continually moaning into her heat, the last instinct as he came to straighten up and mark her with his seed.

He contemplated the way his come splattered on her skin, tracing soft lines of her twitching belly and heaving chest with appreciation.

"That was intense," she whispered.

Humming in agreement, he finally plopped on the cushions to let his overworked muscles wind down.

"I think I blacked out there for a moment," Helena continued.

Bane smiled, pleasantly tired with exercise she put him through, more than a little pleased with himself.

"Shower?" He proposed mildly.

"I'd rather take a bath."

"Not enough time," he smirked. "We lost over half an hour."

"Somehow I don't care about that anymore."

He smiled triumphantly, content with his double win.

oOo

"Are you nervous?" Bane asked, palm sliding over Helena's waist. He pressed himself close while they scored through wooden path to the house; she wished her trench would be thick enough to hide delicate tremors bunching her muscles in regular intervals. Fat chance.

"Excited." She grinned, a last-resort kind of a smile, strained and too toothy to look even remotely genuine.

"I thought they were friends." Bane furrowed his brows. "We can still leave."

"I'm fine."

The door opened before they had a chance to ring the bell. At the entrance stood a very distinguished gentleman, neat mop of silver hair brushing slightly the upper beam of the doorframe. Helena smirked at Bane's momentarily surprised face.

"Not the only freakishly tall person in the room for once. This will be fun," he remarked.

"The sentiment is appreciated and reciprocated, Mr Ferguson."

"Graham, please."

"Tony," Bane offered, shaking hands with the man.

"Hello Graham," Helena quipped from behind Bane's back. She didn't even flinch when Bane introduced himself, his earlier exercise in familiarizing her with the sound and use of his name a vivid reminder that she should stop using his alias altogether.

Their host sent a somewhat apologetic look towards Bane, and released his hand to embrace the scribe tightly.

"You neglected us for way too long."

"Oh, I'm sure you weren't lonely."

"That's beside the point, young lady." He herded them over to the closet and took their coats. "To atone I'll have you sitting by our star guest."

"Not Alex!" Helena gasped looking at the host in the mirror. The stage whisper was calculated to sound both outraged and incredulous. Graham chuckled.

"And our benjamin, Magnus Bentsen, who is a theology student."

"Message received. I'll be visiting every week from now on." She finished arranging her shawl, careful not to leave any part of her bruised throat visible to others. The marks were fading, but she wouldn't dare putting makeup on them as the only disguise.

"I have a witness," Graham looked over to the other man, who nodded solemnly, "so now you can't back out of your promise."

"Can't you get selective amnesia?" she implored Bane.

"That would be very dishonourable." While he said that, his eyes smothered down Helena's frame, appreciating tight fit of her backless dress. The plunging neckline was cut into broad 'v' at the front and back, kept decent with long sleeves and the fact that she added flowing silk to cover her neck.

"A man after my own heart," Graham noted, smiling at their banter. He gestured them over towards the sitting room. Grace welcomed them at the entrance a bit flustered with preparations, but very much pleased with their tokens of gratitude for the invitation; decorative challah wreath with red-dyed eggs and a simple bread from Bane, psalm calligraphed in style of Byzantine icons, adorned lavishly with gold leaf from Helena. And a fresh bunch of lily of the valley mixed with some lovely bluebells.

The sitting room was enormous, at least thirty square metres, and ceiling scaling up to the roof. The outer wall was littered with French windows leading to a terrace with magnificent view of the sea. Seating was plentiful, low furniture scattered around in clumps and groups providing zones for different groups of people if necessary. Here and there there were high and bushy tails of potted plants, yucca and ficus and some posh nameless ones Helena didn't bother to know. On the right were double doors leading to the dining room, closed shut still. On left, beside the fireplace, was Graham's study, and conveniently beside the entrance a cabinet full of alcohol and glasses.

Three guests were in already; a family of local police officer, his wife and daughter all huddled on a sofa near the centre.

Much to everyone's astonishment the man knew Bane.

"Doctor Dorrance, nice to see you again."

"And you, officer Torp. Although under the circumstances I must insist you call me by my name."

"Likewise. May I present to you my lovely wife Tirill and my daughter Anna, who we call Jack. Don't ask why." He stopped for a dramatic second. "I mean it. Don't."

"I wouldn't dare now," Bane joked. Helena smirked behind him, sending a wink to both women who she knew anyway.

"An aperitif before we start?" Graham offered, taking their orders in stride. Helena requested a martini; she knew she'd get it very dry which was just the way she needed to get through the whole ordeal of a brunch. Whoever thought this was a good idea?

Bane was sticking to non-alcoholics since he was driving, but she saw him sneak to his bedroom before they went out, presumably for a last-moment puff of his 'medicine.'

Next guests to come in were local doctor and his daughter; the same Sven who asked about Helena's wellbeing prompting an impromptu visit from Grace. And the Anna who was responsible for spreading rumours about her new 'friend', a teacher and part-time receptionist at her father's clinic.

They smiled pleasantly and talked about nothing in particular, and Helena drained her drink in record time. Ever attentive, Graham brought her a new one, under a watchful gaze from Bane who was unable to intervene, tied up close by the terrace with Jack's questions on his cottages. Apparently she was an avid fan of the studio which designed them and wouldn't let Bane go until he parted with every shred of information. He seemed to have a soft spot for inquisitive young women anyway, so he didn't look too pained by the interrogation.

More guests arrived; a marriage of a writer and a researcher, Tom and Lucy Helpern, both young, withdrawn and dressed in black head to toe. Helena had no idea what their connection to the Fergusons was. Then a young man knocked shyly on the door - a mister Bentsen, the benjamin of the group as Graham called him, studying theology by the grant of the hosts. Immediately he was smitten with Helena, having seen and admired her work but had never before been able to meet her in person at the parties he was invited to. He gazed at her reverently and tried not to stutter too much talking about the weather.

"Ugh. Overcast again. At least we had some sun yesterday. That was so great."

"Yes, absolutely," she replied absentmindedly. "Magnus, was it?"

A benevolent smile resulted in sudden explosion of colour on his cheeks.

"I have prepared a little work for Grace, I think she won't have any qualms in showing it to you. Psalm sixteenth."

"An exquisite choice." The declaration was backed by undoubtedly more extensive biblical knowledge than Helena's. She just googled which citation would be appropriate for the occasion. But he didn't have to know that.

As if summoned, Grace came close chatting away with the doctor, arms linked and fond smiles on both their faces. Magnus lost no time in getting the hostess' attention.

"Mrs Ferguson, I have an urgent request."

He whisked her away before she had a chance to gather her wits for an evasive manoeuvre, still looking curiously over her shoulder at the doctor and the scribe.

They sipped their drinks watching pensively after the pair.

"Will she ever come back?" the man asked wistfully.

"Perhaps," Helena mused. "If she kept my gift separate from other stuff I made for her."

Unlikely, both knew it just as well.

Sven didn't inquire further; he grabbed Helena's arm, gently steering her towards a more secluded part of the room.

"Your newest friend looks interesting," he commented.

"He is."

"Not as much as the marks on your throat."

That was to be expected. The man lived from his observational skills.

"Do they show much?"

"A bit."

"I'll rearrange the shawl then." She tried to give an air of ennui while she turned her back to the room and fussed with the fabric, but it didn't work on the man who could tell condition of her liver by her complexion.

"Was this voluntary on your part?" he asked.

"No. But it's not… What one might think." She finished lamely. It was exactly what one might think.

"Do you require assistance?"

Did she? A slow sip of martini was her only diversion and it wasn't nearly enough time to think of a good diversion.

"Yes. Tony has to find a therapist." It was best to be honest. "For what happened in Gotham. Can you refer him to the one you found for Nick?"

Niklaus, the ex-FSK guy, who she was still in contact with. Why didn't she think to ask him about it?

Sven nodded, never stopping eyeing Bane from across the room.

"Is he really a physicist? He looks like a dangerous man."

"He is an intelligent man," Helena supplied.

To her it was just the way he looked - always had been like this. But she could see how threatening he could seem to other people. A wolf in sheep's clothing; scarred and muscular, tall and confident. At the same time unerringly kind and polite, sharply dressed in woollen three piece suit in light grey, crisp white shirt and moss green knitted tie. A walking contradiction in brown leather oxfords.

"An intelligent man who bears a lot of old scars is the epitome of danger," Sven said sententiously, switching to measure Helena's response for a few seconds.

She didn't have appropriate retort to that.

"Lupus in fabula*," the doctor murmured, raising his glass in a silent greeting when Bane approached.

They nodded respectfully, exchanging secretly calculating glances. Bane rested one hand at the small of Helena's back, at once reassuring and possessive.

"I think you caught it already, but Sven here is my family physician."

"Dorrance," Bane said, making Helena raise her eyebrows in confusion. Why didn't he offer his name like he did with others until now?

"Torstein," Sven replied with a hint of superiority.

What was with these two, she thought.

"Sven was the one who sent me to the surgery. Saved my life."

That deflated Bane a bit. The doctor however looked more smug than was appropriate given the topic of their conversation.

"All in a day's work."

"I was just asking his advice on a matter that you might find interesting," she continued. Bane's palm pressed slightly firmer into her back. "I think I'll leave you two to work out the details, I just remembered I have to ask Tirill about her school's curriculum."

She didn't wait for them to try and stop her, and sauntered away, gulping down the rest of her drink as she went. That was a bit underhanded, she had to admit even before herself. Bane couldn't follow her without making a fuss. He wouldn't do that. Not yet.

The police officer's wife sat with Graham, giggling and looking enormously pleased with herself.

"Oh, Helena come, I have a confession to make," she waved her over with a laugh. "I was just telling Mr G I went into the dining room and switched the placing cards so that I could sit by your date."

"Huh," was all the scribe could say. Was there anything else to do beside raising her eyebrow and looking over to poor host sitting there in mortified silence?

"I know it's hardly appropriate. But I'll have no way of snatching him away from Jack, and I need to ask him a favour."

"Today?"

"Forge while the iron is hot," she snickered.

How could anyone be mad at her when she's so refreshingly honest, Helena thought.

Ten years her senior, which placed her nearly exactly at Bane's age, Mrs Torp was a dedicated and much loved teacher and youth counselor. She knew how to talk with people, and she actually cared about what they were telling her about. In exchange, she never beat around the bush herself, for better and for worse.

They chit-chatted awhile, about movies and the weather, at one point left by Graham to investigate whereabouts of the missing two guests.

Good quarter of an hour after she left Bane with the physician, Helena turned finally to locate the two. Sven was in a hushed conversation with Grace again, the pair close together like best friends or lovers, Helena thought. Bane was standing alone at the window, back turned to the room, sipping his tea.

She excused herself and beelined towards him, hiding behind tall plants whenever anyone seemed interested in stalling her progress. She slithered her hand in the crook of his elbow, thumb rubbing reassuring circles on the inside of his arm.

"Are you good?"

She watched intently for any sign of discomfort or displeasure, but apart from his conversation with the doctor, Bane was perfectly composed.

"I'm well."

"To be honest I didn't think this type of gathering would be a comfortable place for you."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, I suspect you didn't do social calls in your previous line of occupation."

He grunted dismissively, an amused smirk twisting slightly his marred lips. Helena had to hide her surprise when he decided to indulge her curiosity and leaned down with an explanation whispered huskily into her ear.

"I only ever read about parties like this, or watched them from the shadows. To be finally a part of one, as an equal among other guests… I'm thrilled. It's like living inside of an Agatha Christie novel."

Lull in general conversation had Helena's laugh reverberate musically through the room, drawing curious and amused glances their way.

"And who would you be? Poirot? Shall I call you Hercules?" The attempt at French accent was bad, but it did succeed in making Bane grin.

The entrance door opened and shut with a loud bang, turning all eyes towards darkened corridor. Helena felt Bane tense beside her, turning discreetly so that he shielded her with his body. Slow and drawn out thumping steps echoed off the walls, tension building with each second. Deep and pleasant baritone rumbled from behind a dark fedora, precariously kept secured on the head of the mysterious figure with a gloved hand, shielding their face as well.

"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts.** And this man, ladies and gentlemen," the stranger stepped forward into full light and bowed deeply to the room, "just landed a lead role in 'Macbeth'!"

"Jesus fuck, Alex!" Jack complained.

"Anna Torp, behave please like an adult not an adolescent," Anna chided.

"I apologize." The younger woman swallowed her pride in an admirable show of magnanimity towards her former teacher.

Meanwhile congratulations poured from other guests, along with some teasing remarks and playful insults. Introductions were made and in truly grand fashion the thespian was revealed to be the last guest to attend the brunch. As Graham explained, local judge was meant to be there, but she was delayed by a personal matter. Since they lost enough time waiting, pushing their scheduled start a quarter of an hour late, Grace stepped forward immediately, clearing her throat dramatically to grab everyone's attention.

"I am sure we all read some murder mystery novel at one time or another, be it a classic like Christie, or something more contemporary, modern and grim. At any rate, I think we're all familiar with how these things play out. So I want you to enjoy our food and time together, but remember - the murderer is lurking amongst us! The doors are sealed and the deed will happen with everyone in the room." She chuckled and looked around to measure response of her guests. Graham did a little clapping motion, but nearly soundlessly, supporting her at her flank. Barely anyone else responded with something more energetic than a flash of a smile. "Well, let's not be idle. The brunch is served."

* * *

*Lupus in fabula [lat.] "Speak of the devil" :D *wink, wink*

**William Shakespeare, "As You Like It" [Act 2, Scene 7]

* * *

 **Please leave a comment if you enjoyed! Be sure you do if you didn't! :D**

 **Review responses:**

 **Lia: This is stuff you shouldn't be reading at work, and i shouldn't be writing it there... :D Lemme just leave it at that and bask again in the warm rays of mutual understanding.**

 **Kiara Exodus: I responded back then but again - the honour is all Helena's. She's really writing herself, I'm often left frowning at the things she says and does. It's hella entertaining though, right?**

 **WorryFree: Yes, and yes; it is set exactly when you figured and that is the same lacy lingerie that we see in the Scientist. I thought back then adding another chapter with smut would be too much of the good stuff... Concerning the jealousy, well, you're reading my mind, so maybe I should change what I have planned next. Hmm.**

 **Esperanza: Yay, please eep reading and leave a word or two from time to time. It does help tremendously.**

 **Reader: The power balance is tricky, so your comment made me doubly glad. So thankful there is someone who notices!**

 **Guest: Thank you so much for your encouraging words. I have been unusually down, but I think I'll be taking things slow and steady now, without too much strain and promises adding unnecessary weight over myself. It's so awkward to read words like yours, about the quality of the story and the uneasiness of not "meeting the same level" in a comment. in reality, even broken, one word sentences are meaningful. Writers are needy like that. :) We live (and publish) for those rare and short glimpses of attention from readers, for crumbs of appreciation and perhaps also satisfaction of completion.**

 **Adarya: I thought you abandoned Bane, Helena and me. So glad to see you again! I'm happy you liked the 'November' chapter, and i'm again at a loss, because i always feel so inadequate while responding to you. :) Hoping this installment will be good read a few times over too, do let me know if you enjoyed.**

 **Last but nor least:**

 **IT'S SO GOOD TO BE BACK! :D**


	10. Sculptor, 5 of 5 and a half

**Happy birthday to me. :)**

 **So, there will be one more short chapter in Sculptor before we move on. This series have some serious plot going on! If you're interested I'm posting snaps on my tumblr (at ilovehighhats), so be sure to check it out.**

 **I hope you will enjoy the chapter. :)**

 **Review responses at the very end, as usual. Unusually, a question for y'all there too.**

* * *

 _Sculptor, or shaping the future one day at a time._

 _In which the fruit is sliced to be consumed but it turns out to be rotten, as poison spreads through the land._

* * *

 **Part 5**

 **The Rot**

* * *

oOo

Dining room was bright and welcoming, prepared to receive them with every available surface overflowing with food and flowers. At the centre was a monstrous table set for fourteen people, decorated with low bouquets of spring greenery, in the very middle adorned with Helena's lily of the valley arrangement tucked inside Bane's brioche wreath. The white of bell-like heads contrasted nicely with red eggs peeking from the golden crust, emerald green leaves shielded from touching the pastry by a simple yellow cloth.

The plane of the table was covered with an impeccably white linen, bone coloured china on top of it harmonizing with pale yellow of the napkins. Cutlery shone with gleam hinting at thorough polishing, as did the glasses arranged in a symmetrical pattern.

Various cold dishes were scattered throughout the length of the wood, enabling everyone equal access to every delectable bite. Small baskets full of fluffy wheat rolls and dark, dense rye bread stood paired with coquilles filled with creamy butter. Blue bowls full of simple potato salad flanked silver plates of cold meats, surrounded in turn with small dishes full of sauces and garnishes. Glass troughs full of boiled eggs hovered over long ashets filled with salmon rolled over asparagus, ham with horseradish cream, trout covering golden beets and devilled eggs full of caviar. Boats with eggerøre, a dish of eggs and chives cooked over steam, stood at attention by every seat.

On the side, long chest housed a stainless steel bain-marie, keeping warm sausages of three different kinds and croquettes of egg and mushroom, accompanied by bowls of fresh salads and an assortment of drinks framed with mounds of oranges. A column of fresh plates and a basket waiting for used dishes was at the ready hidden behind an impressive bouquet of peonies. Their round heads in delicate pink were fragile and ephemeral as if assembled with the finest silk.

"This looks absolutely fabulous!" Alex exclaimed, stopping at the entrance.

Grace beamed up at him pleased with the praise, soaking in compliments from other guests who immediately followed the actor's lead. A little bit of snooping, peering curiously at the nametags by the plates, and soon everyone found their seat.

Hosts were each at the short ends of the table. On Grace's right was the doctor, then Jack, alongside her Bane, and Tirill, Tom, then Anna on Graham's left, thanks to last minute scheme of the counsellor. On the right side of the host was an empty seat, then Alex, Helena, Magnus, Lucy and the police officer, Knut, just on Grace's left side.

Graham was the last to enter the dining room, after he ensured some low and soothing music was playing subtly in the background.

"Grace, is Fatty here?" Tirill asked unfolding her napkin.

"Oh no, she helped me with preparations but I gave her a few days off."

"She's not celebrating Easter though, is she?"

"No of course not, only we infidels do," the hostess snorted, reaching out for a basket of bread, giving everyone a signal to start their meal.

Graham strolled clockwise around the table, filling wine glasses with some chilled Riesling.

"Excuse me, but do I understand correctly, you call your helper a fatty?" Magnus questioned.

Explanation from Grace was somewhat offhanded.

"It's an inside joke she started. She is thin as a rail, but always complains her husband wants to put some meat on her bones."

"Without much success," Anna added.

"I swear she could be a model, if not for her nose," mused Tirill, shaking her head over her salmon. "The original and eccentric look seems to be in season lately, so who knows. Maybe the nose is not the obstacle."

"I'm still surprised you called us all infidels, Mrs Ferguson. That's very unchristian of you to describe anyone in this way," the theologian in training complained.

"It is true, though. The name depends on viewpoint, and Fatima never pretended she sees us all in any other way," Helena interjected.

"But you made her change her attitude with that Jesus talk." Tirill again, smiling across the table from her spot on Bane's right.

"What Jesus talk?" Obviously, Magnus seemed keenly interested in that facet of the conversation.

"I convinced her that people believing in prophet Isa are only a step away from believing also in Muhammad."

"Does she know you don't believe in either?" Graham threw in with a smirk from his end of the table.

"Shh, don't rat me out. I have some very unpleasant memories with judgy religious people; I'm inclined more to soothing tempers, not inflaring them. Especially since I hear Fatima's husband may have a calligrapher uncle." She grinned at Bane, sure he remembered the remarks his men used to made at her loose conduct back in Armenia. No one but them needed to know, though.

He sent her a timid smirk and passed the butter to Jack, who couldn't stop talking to him.

"Have you seen Islamic calligraphy?" Helena continued, "It's divine! People here tend thinking it's a lost skill, preserved only in museums, but in reality it's flourishing in languages we don't usually concern ourselves with. The whole of Asia is still very much practicing the art of writing."

"You think of branching out?"

"Oh no, I'll stick to perfecting what I already know. But it's good to grab some inspiration and maybe steal some techniques here and there."

"I have a question." Tom the writer, silent so far and observing more than participating, decided to add to the conversation. "Have any of you ever stole anything?"

"I used to nick a candy every time I went into Mr Walter's store, back in third grade I think. Then he caught me red-handed and I had to work for him all summer. He paid me in Astro Pops. I used to lick them to a shank, while riding a bike."

"Those are lollipops, right?" Knut asked leaning slightly over his plate. He was sitting beside Grace, at the opposite end of the table from the host.

"Oh yes. Forgive me, it' so easy to forget we have different backgrounds."

"I used to pilfer my neighbour's orchard," Tirill confessed. "We were raiding it like pests, a whole bunch of neighbouring kids eating all plums, and apples, and sour cherries. I think he left them unfenced because we were too cute to bear. Save for me, I used to look like a rat then."

"I'm sure it wasn't so," Grace argued.

"Were you part of that too, Dad?" Jack asked, for a moment giving Bane reprieve from the relentless questioning to sip some water. He smiled at Helena over his wreath.

For a moment they felt like the only people at the table, connected in a way even distance and space couldn't hinder.

"Oh yes," the policeman smiled broadly, continuing the chat, "and she didn't even mention the insane amount of trespassing we did back then."

"And all those illegal bonfires."

"Did you sell berries by the road without paying taxes too?"

"Guilty as charged!"

Everybody laughed.

"I think we have some sausages on the side? Would anyone want a helping?" Anna asked, rising from her seat.

"I'd like one," Knut raised his hand.

"Is anyone superstitious?"

The excited question was from Alex. He said it in a way that made everyone still their hands, for a moment pausing clinking of cutlery and idle chatter.

"Maybe, why?" Tom inquired.

"No one mentioned that, but we have thirteen people at the table. Do you know what that means?"

"Something bad will happen to the one who leaves first!" Jack gasped.

"I didn't leave the room, I just went here," Anna observed, nonplussed. She shot a quick glance towards Graham.

It was her father who saved her from furthering the subject.

"Well, I think it's indelicate to speak of superstition in the presence of a cleric and two scientists." The remark seemed biting, but it succeeded in diverting everyone's attention. Magnus blushed, mumbling that he was still far off from his ordination, while Bane stoically munched on devilled eggs.

"That's right, we have another scholar among us." Tirill seemed excited the conversation turned to Bane. "Tony, what made you pursue your field of science?"

"I liked stars and comets when I was a child. Saw the Halley's in '86."

"So, where are you from, Tony?" Lucy asked.

Helena didn't remember Bane giving her permission to call him by his given name. She leant back in her chair to glance the researcher's way behind Magnus' back. Lucy didn't notice, but the man in question did.

"Hong Kong," he answered with a mischievous smile.

Most of the people at the table laughed.

"Does that mean you're British?" Graham inquired, silencing everyone with his low pleasant tone. Interested.

"Indeed."

"Oh, I didn't realize that Hong Kong was British," Lucy admitted.

"Handed back over to Chinese government in 1997, but ever since it has been very independent, an autonomous territory with its own rules."

"What were you doing there?"

"What most young people do. Studying, getting my first job, and my first degree."

"In physics?"

"No, my first interest was history."

"How unexpected. So what were you doing for your first job?"

"I was working on archaeological sites in continental Asia."

"How many degrees do you have?" Grace inquired, leaning over the table towards him.

"I assume you mean the fields, not actual number of my titles?" His smile was charm itself, accompanied by slight lean towards the woman. "Three. Masters in Classical Antiquity, where I was focusing on Europe's influence in and over Southeast Asia, then Bachelor of Classical Languages and finally a doctorate in astrophysics."

"That's very eclectic."

"How many languages do you speak?"

All eyes turned to Helena, who asked the last question, scrutinizing Bane from across the table. He returned her stare with a smirk.

"Fluently? Only around ten."

She snorted in her wine, sure that if he admitted to knowing ten, he most probably knew at least double that number. And what did he mean by 'fluently'?

"I wish I spoke anything but English like a native. Can't get the intonation right in Norwegian, and my Spanish is just ghastly." Lucy interjected, but no one but Bane seemed interested.

"Shadowing might be a good way for you to practice..."

The conversation fragmented again, guests returning to their plates and immediate neighbours in favour of idle chatter.

Brunch had fell into a lull for a while, people coming to the buffet and back, strolling around to talk with friends sitting too far while filling up their drinks, until Knut decided to show off his recently acquired knowledge, courtesy of the Wikipedia.

"Did you know that Plato was in fact an accomplished wrestler? He took part in the Olympics and won three times."

Helena caught the information mid-sentence, immediately stopping her conversation with Alex. She gasped, turning starry eyed to Bane. Conveniently, he was keeping an eye on her, even though he appeared to listen attentively to Tirill.

He sent Helena a wary look.

"What?" The police officer asked, disoriented with the shift of attention.

"Is it true?" Helena asked breathlessly.

Cautiously, Bane nodded, weighing his words.

"There is a source alluding to this. It is true that he was a sportsman, as many youths of good families were encouraged to be at the time."

"Oh, is that so?"

"There is something I'm missing here," Graham complained.

"Helena had an idea lately to find me a nickname," Bane admitted begrudgingly.

Tirill clapped excitedly.

"Let's think about it!"

"I'd rather not."

"Don't be a spoilsport," Grace interjected with a wink.

He visibly refrained from rising to her taunt.

"You could be seen as Plato," Tom mused, "but I think his philosophy is too emotional for a scientist oriented on facts. How about Euclides?"

"From Alexandria or Megara?"

"There were two of them?"

"I have one!" Magnus smiled shyly, curiously peeking at the scribe more than at Bane. "Menelaus."

"Who's that?" Jack laughed. "Sounds like a skin disease."

"It was the husband of Helen of Troy. Who originally lived in Sparta, and returned there after ten years long war."

"Wasn't that the guy who strangled his lady?" Sven threw in, observing Helena's reaction.

"No that was Othello." Ever helpful in drama related topics Alex supplied.

"Of course it was."

The scribe threw a warning glance to the doctor, noting Bane's concerned frown. Just great.

"How about Hubble. Because of, you know, the size?" Came from the corner of the table.

"Anna!" Helena scolded openly.

"Coincidentally, Edwin Hubble was quite the athlete." Bane arched one brow at his date, more amused than anything at the implication.

She snickered.

"Who was Edwin Hubble? Are we talking about the telescope still?" Jack looked around for some explanation.

"Children, the name of the object had to at first belong to a man, to be used as a commemoration of his accomplishments." Graham's tired voice barely carried over next propositions.

"Copernicus?"

"Cadmus, perhaps?"

"Bacon!"

"I'd say brownie."

"No, sir Francis Bacon, you fool."

Helena hid her eyes behind her palm, trying to control her laughing.

"Newton"

"Like in fig newtons? "

"Chiron, "

"Kant."

"McQueen "

"Mr Beefcake."

"Like rock Hudson?"

"What, the Rock?"

"No that's Dwayne Johnson"

"I'm confused." Alex admitted. "Don't even know most of those people."

"We could always just wait for something to pop up naturally. I'm sure we will be granted Dr Dorrance's visits again, provided you won't scare him off with your chatter." Graham cut the thread with a commanding but quite fatherly gaze around the table.

"You will come again, right?" Jack looked immediately to Bane, concerned with his reaction.

"I'm not easily frightened, little one," he smiled down at her. He carried himself with admirable dignity through the ordeal, even though Helena practically lied on the table doubled with mirth.

The meal was slowly finishing, plates emptied and scattered to the basket out of sight, conversation rising and dying in short bursts.

Anna declaimed over the necessity of early detection of health threats, droning on without much care for anyone's interest or attention. Beside her, Graham was unusually quiet, perhaps musing over some of her points. Helena watched him out of the corner of her eye, trying to decipher what was off about him, but unable to put her finger on it. On the other side of the teacher, Tom was not so covertly rolling his eyes, stuffing himself with potato salad.

Heavy sigh on her left got her attention and she shared an understanding nod with Magnus.

He seemed to take it as an encouragement, steeling himself briefly before interrupting Anna's monologue.

"Surely there are limits to what can we learn with tests and measurements. Sometimes the disease is hiding in a way that makes it impossible to detect. We should all get together with our loved ones as often as we can, prepare our hearts for meeting the Lord, and not worry too much about when exactly that day would come."

"So you say it's pointless to have check-ups?" Anna frowned, swirling her wineglass in dangerously wide circles.

"If something happens to you, well, what can you do? God's plan."

"If I was following that reasoning I wouldn't sit here now. By your standards I'm living on borrowed time. By mine, I've dealt with a problem and moved on. But perhaps," Helena smiled coyly towards Magnus, "just perhaps, I am a wrench in God's plan and someone somewhere is suffering terribly in my stead."

Poor boy looked appalled. Shame he didn't realize her diversion was a ploy to shut the teacher up.

"That's medieval thinking. God's plan was to put a good doctor in your path, and give you a happy life."

"That's so charming." A genuine smile put him at ease and pause in conversation brought the attention to her. Just as planned. "And I thought recently, I should give back to the community which so generously welcomed me into its ranks."

"Tell me you mean what I think you mean," Tirill grinned.

"I think I'm finally ready to take up on your offer," she nodded at Tirill and Anna.

"Is this your doing, Tony? If so, you have my thanks. We all have been trying to convince Helena for almost as long as she lived here." Graham added animatedly, no doubt relieved with timely rescue of conversation with some genuinely interesting information.

"I must confess I'm in the dark." Bane didn't seem too fazed by it.

"No you're not. I told you I should get a job. "

"Indeed, you mentioned. My bad. Does that mean you've been declined for years and still persisted?" He asked Tirill.

"I'm sure you know yourself how important it is to preserve appreciation towards beauty and respect toward craftsmanship. I never gave up hope Helena would be convinced to take some youngsters under her wings."

"Admirable dedication." Not many people could say it without sounding condescending, but somehow he managed to pack the right amount of respect in his tone.

"Well, I think when it comes to patience I have a fair opponent," she winked at Bane, then sent a sly smile to the scribe.

Maybe she knew a tad too much about their situation.

"I have no patience towards children," Helena explained. "But I do hope to intimidate them into listening to me. I've been practicing." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Can always try to scare them with some outlandish story of monsters coming their way if lines on their practice sheets won't be straight enough."

"No one will be scared of that in the age of computer games and terrorists besieging whole cities." Lucy threw in.

"Kids these days still believe in trolls and troggs," Tirill argued. "They do. We have been hearing lately some outlandish stories, as Helena said, even from older teens. About a troll that took his residence in the forest north from here. They say he runs around carrying trees which he tackled out of the ground. After he's done thousand push ups he does thousand pull ups on one of the branches of the tree, the one he wants to carry of course. And he does crunches way above ground, holding onto the tree with his legs. And then he invades ponds and carries that tree around in circles."

"Why would he carry a tree around?" Tom wondered.

"No one knows."

"Sounds like a bodybuilder more than a troll." Their hostess cut in. "You'd know." Grace was looking away but no one had any doubt to whom the sentence was addressed to.

Again, all eyes turned to Bane.

"I had a moment where I did similar things. Now I have my pilates."

"Too old?" Magnus asked, tips of his ears reddening almost instantly after he realized how rude the question was.

"Too tired." Bane nodded, dispelling the air of gaffe with his honesty.

"Tony was a riot in our last class," Grace joked, getting up to bring another helping of salad and bread. "The instructor nearly fainted when he came in."

"Oh, I bet." Anna murmured, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Sorry," she threw quieter to Helena across the table.

"It's okay, I like to look at him too."

"Aren't the scars, how shall I put it, distracting?" Alex asked leaning to whisper it dramatically in her ear, but he seemed interested more than judgemental. And didn't lower his voice all that much.

She smiled with a twinge of sourness.

"I'm fine with them."

Out of nowhere Grace appeared behind them, pretending to fuss over the arrangement of plates on the table. It was a bit off admittedly, since the judge didn't show.

"We didn't see too many, he was pretty well covered. But I did have a chance to glance at his back and torso once, and it's certainly a fascinating sight."

The confession made Alex and Anna giggle, while Helena, Tom and Graham exchanged pained looks.

"What? When?" Anna seemed intrigued, and conveniently overlooked a glare from the scribe.

"Please stop," she threw in over rim of her glass, taking a big swig of water.

"I walked in on him in an inopportune moment." Her expression didn't left to the imagination the fact that she was absolutely delighted by the experience.

"You mean opportune," Helena interjected.

"Whatever we call it; it shows that he lived an eventful life." She winked at Helena, mercifully omitting details of the scene she witnessed. The younger woman silently nodded in thanks.

"Let's ask him about it," Alex proposed. He was gleeful with the reactions around him, and was set on squeezing every bit of juicy rumour he could get. "Mr Dorrance, if you please?" he called out across the table.

Bane turned to him, slowly and steadily with the slightest edge. His eyes measured the distance between actor and the scribe in an instant; a bit too close since Grace was still leaning over the man's left side.

"We were wondering what you were doing after you finished your first job."

"I was an apprentice of an antiques dealer."

"An apprentice," Grace said with a meaningful swipe over his scars.

"It's a cutthroat environment," he explained, unwavering stare on Alex.

"Oh which one isn't." The doctor boomed from his corner of the table, no doubt miffed with lack of attention from the hostess. "I remember back in my intern year, everyone wanted to work for that one star surgeon. We did anything to get on his flock of admirers, and that were some most volatile months I've lived through. This," he showed them a big scar peeking from under his shirtsleeve, "is a remnant from a fight over who gets to remove a catheter from patients artery."

"You never told me about it before," Anna laughed, exchanging a quick look with Graham.

"I've lived," he boasted, electing light chuckles from everyone.

"And may we all live to tell exciting stories to our dearest," Graham closed the conversation with a smile and slight rising of his glass. "I think it's time for digestif and perhaps a bite of dessert. Let's go back to the living room."

Grace agreed and led them all, leaving behind her scraping of chairs and animated conversations, the salad and bread all but forgotten. Graham poured generous helpings of whisky to whomever declared the need for a glass, and the group split into two and three person circles, chatting. Helena went out on the terrace, and she winked at Bane over a cigarette lit gallantly by Alex. The scientist smiled, seemingly at ease but internally straining to go to her, unable at the moment since he was trapped by a story of the young architecture student and her unwavering enthusiasm towards modern designers.

Grace brought out trays of miniature desserts, arranged masterfully to showcase each piece's best spots. Mini tartelettes piled high with fruit were surrounded by an army of understated chocolate mousse cups, garnished only with very tips of lemon balm. Golden discs of puff pastry filled with variety of jams were sitting in neat rows, along with plain squares of shortbread, simply sprinkled with large crystals of sugar. There were creamy desserts in tiny chalices, panna cotta and tiramisu, and a heaping platter of cut fruit. Last, but much needed if judging by cheers of some guests, was a plate filled with grapes and cheese, followed by a basket of Bane's bread cut to small pieces.

When smokers came back from the terrace and settled on armchairs and sofas, and the rug by the fireplace, everyone stocked up on their drinks and munchies of choice, Grace came out to the middle.

"It is time for our murder mystery," she intoned, spreading her hands elegantly in a welcoming gesture.

Her response was a chorus of groans.

"No, don't be like that. It's going to be excellent fun."

She produced a folder with margins swarming in sticky notes, ruffled and colourful like feathers of a parrot. "One of you have been told to place an object, so that another person would consume it. So, did any of you find an unexpected grape in their brunch?"

Anna groaned.

"I had one in my salad. I thought it was supposed to be there?"

"There were no dishes with grapes in them, save for the wine," Graham offered.

"So, I'm the body?" Anna made sure. "Oh, fu-" She caught her thought just in time to change it to a very sarcastic "fantastic."

"So how does this work?" Lucy asked. She barely took part in earlier conversation and seemed obviously bored; her blasé air evaporating long time ago and leaving only a slight stank of apathy.

"Well, we have to ask each other questions to find out whodunnit'!" Grace offered excitedly.

"Who killed Anna?" Knut threw loudly, but no one took his question seriously.

"Now, let me just divide you into two groups." Grace consulted the notebook. "One will be suspects and the other sleuths."

"Shouldn't we have done that before the lunch?"

"What if one of sleuths is the killer?"

"What group will you and Graham be?"

"Calm down, I'm getting to that."

Helena smiled, sipping her drink, letting the alcohol cut over decadent richness of the chocolate mousse cup. It was fantastic and she thought briefly of getting the recipe for it. Bane had been cooking a lot lately and everything looked and tasted like creations from a Michelin starred chef. The effortless masterfulness he conducted himself with in the kitchen was enviable. She knew it was a remnant of his earlier occupation, his every move perfectly planned, if necessary even rehearsed to conduct business to the highest standard and execute every task with utmost precision. Even if it was only making bread or cutting a steak. On top of that he had a spark of eagerness bordering on giddiness, an excitement over being able to cook without any hindrance of time, ingredients, or a mask restricting smell and taste.

Infuriating, how good he was with everything he touched. Helena wanted to make him see how that felt, the awe mixed with slight inferiority, when she'd be the one to nonchalantly whip up a treat.

She observed him from across the room, enjoying his relaxed sprawl during an unhurried conversation, the keen interest with which he listened to Jack, the obvious amusement over Grace's chaotic explanations. He probably knew who the culprit was already, and even if he didn't, it would be a matter of minutes before he figured it out, Helena thought fondly. Without a doubt he was the most intelligent man in the room.

The most dangerous, too.

"So now, listen please," Grace called, after clearing up some details with her husband. "As the hosts are privy to the identity of our mysterious killer we are exempt from playing. Anna is our victim... Where is she?"

"She went away to settle her cough," Sven supplied.

"Well, alright. That leaves ten people. Three will be detectives, the rest will be suspects. Remember that the killer could be any of you. Now for the rules-" She stopped mid-sentence.

Anna emerged from the corridor, her entrance announced with sound of laboured coughing, her breath wheezing. She tried to tell them something.

"I ca-, I can't…"

"Jack. Get her purse from the lobby, it's the red one," Sven ordered, running towards his daughter. He helped her to the nearest sofa, the one where Bane sat with the student, vacated hurriedly by both.

Helena watched with everybody, as the doctor tried to establish what was happening.

"You're itchy? Where? How long does it last? I'm with you, you know there is nothing to be nervous about. Where is Jack?" He turned to the room, concern clear in his eyes.

"Anaphylaxis?" Bane asked.

"Yes. She has Epipen in her purse." He turned to Graham. "Call the ambulance."

Right when he was saying that, Jack emerged from the corridor with her bounty.

"I've got it!"

With practiced movement Sven fished out the cylindrical device, then jammed it in Anna's thigh. He watched her like a hawk, not even taking his eyes off her when he discarded the spent shell of epinephrine. She settled a bit, drawing seemingly deeper breaths, a bit less frantic and even smiling shyly.

It didn't seem to work.

She wheezed shortly after getting the drug, clawing at her father's suit, eyes wide with incomprehension.

"I don't understand, it should have helped immediately."

He was shell-shocked, shaking his head and inspecting Anna's pupils and pulse.

"It's expired." Bane supplied, inspecting the pen. "Six months."

"Even so." The doctor shook his head.

Bane moved closer. Sven lay Anna down on her back, tipping her head to ease her breathing.

"How long until the ambulance arrives?"

"Ten minutes," Graham reported.

"Does she carry a spare?" Bane inquired.

"I don't think so, you check her purse. Grace, do you have epinephrine?"

"No, we never needed it before."

Cursing under his breath the doctor frowned, monitoring deteriorating state of his daughter. Meanwhile, Bane switched to stand by the hostess, asking her something in a hushed voice. Helena slid closer, as did Graham.

"I'm not sure," Grace was saying, then she turned to her husband, clutching onto his forearm. "Dear, do we have an AED?"

He nodded patting her hand reassuringly, communicating something wordlessly to Bane.

"Yes in the car, I'll go get it... Just in case."

Other guests were huddled in groups, unerringly staring at the pair occupying the sofa.

Anna started wheezing terribly, an awful strained and gurgling sound. Her hands flailed, weakly hooking on her father's suit, trying to find purchase, to ground herself in her panic.

"To the floor," Bane ordered. He moved to the doctor so fast some people gasped, but he didn't care, focused on gently transferring Anna down.

Her chest raised quickly in shallow panicked conclusions. She was suffocating.

Then, it all stopped.

"Don't do this to me, fight!" Sven ordered, lapsing back to his native Norwegian, his voice breaking, full of sorrow.

Bane bent down, his ear by Anna's mouth, face turned toward her chest.

"Ten seconds not breathing, CPR," he noted, already putting his hands on her sternum and starting a fast, powerful rhythm to keep her brain oxygenated.

Steps thudded in the corridor. Graham came back with a black bag, jogging to the place where Bane was still working on keeping Anna on the brink of life. Sven snatched the AED as soon as the host neared them, violently tearing open the attached medkit, looking for scissors.

"Keep your composure," Bane ordered.

Surprisingly, the doctor nodded, and with a deep breath set to work on cutting Anna's clothes. For a brief moment Bane had to stop massaging her heart, so he immediately switched to turn the AED on.

A pleasant female voice instructed them to contact the emergency number.

"How much time passed?" Sven asked Graham.

"Since the call? Two minutes."

The voice continued, saying they needed to attach the electrodes.

Anna's chest was stripped naked, so Bane set on immediately to attach the device, giving one pad to the doctor. The machine beeped after a short while and the most terrifying message played out loud in the terrified silence of the room.

"No heart rhythm detected. Shock advised."

"Clear," Sven's and Bane's voice boomed in unison, and the scientist pressed the button.

Rush of electricity coursed visibly through Anna's body, contorting her muscles like a life-sized puppet in a B-grade horror movie.

But this was real.

"No heart rhythm detected. CPR one minute."

The machine beeped the pace, immediately picked up by Bane.

"Graham go outside, bring the emergency crew in as soon as possible," Sven ordered, drawing impossible strength to stay as collected as possible. His child was dying before his very eyes, and there was nothing he could do, save for what the stranger before him was already helping with, his expertise startling. Anna's ribs crunched audibly, her body limp under Bane's hands, like a terrifyingly unresponsive doll insensitive to the worldly stimuli.

Prompts from the device repeated the same pattern twice, shock and a minute of massage. The second time around Sven changed Bane, with a pained, shocked expression on his face. The scientist sat back on his haunches, eyes never leaving the woman before him.

Then, they all gasped in relief when the AED announced:

"Heart rhythm detected. Observe the patient. Next evaluation in two minutes."

The breathing was faint, and Anna didn't regain consciousness.

When the EMT team arrived, Bane straightened and strolled over to Helena, gathering her to his chest, kissing top of her head with a sigh.

Only then she felt the trembling in her limbs.

* * *

 **R &R!**

 **I'm dying to know what you think. :)**

 **Review responses here:**

 **Guest: good to be back to writing. :) And there will be one more tiny tiny little chapter after this. And then smut break. and then plot. A lot of serious plot and drama!**

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* * *

 **So, question time!**

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** **Ping me here, or on my Twitter or Tumblr!**


	11. Libra

**Hello my lovelies!**

 **Posting this string at the airport, on my way to Tokyo. I'm hoping some inspiration comes my way while I'm there, and I'll be finally able to finish Sculptor, and perhaps even post first chapter of another major plot arc in Constellations series - Reticulum.**

 **Do leave a comment after reading!**

* * *

 _Libra_ , Latin for "weighing scales". Also known as "balance," a point between two opposite forces that is desirable over purely one state or the other.

* * *

oOo

"Good morning."

No one greeted her in the mornings, her guards mute most of the time. Helena frowned and sighed. Bane.

It was still dark, but out on the courtyard mercenaries were sluggishly getting to the day's business. The Muslims were finishing their prayers, cooks were preparing aromatic flatbreads to be delivered to hungry men shortly, mercenaries were chatting over a smoke before changing shifts.

She twitched in her bed, peeking from under the sheets to blink owlishly Bane's way.

"What time is it?"

"It's early."

"Mhm."

If he didn't want to answer she had no way of making him. Blindly she patted her hand around the head of the bed in futile search for her glasses.

"What can I do for you?"

He didn't reply, which made her stop her exploration and squint at him without the aid of additional lenses.

Right. There were only two things he came to see her for.

She sat up, facing him and covering her yawning mouth with the back of her hand. There were rings under his eyes, and an overall fatigue radiating from his hunched posture, when he sat down heavily on the chair. A beast of a man, sprawled before her, still silently watching instead of spilling what were his intentions.

She had a pretty good guess though.

"Long night?"

"Long day," he corrected.

"So you were out again? That must be nice."

"I'd rather stay here."

"We could switch."

He huffed an amused chuckle.

"And what do you know about commanding people?"

"I could manage, I'm sure."

"Indeed?"

"You should shower."

"There is a lot of things I should and shouldn't do."

"Yeah, I know the feeling."

He grunted in agreement, rolling his head back with his eyes closed.

"Are you going to sleep in my chair?"

"Perhaps."

The duvet was warm around her shoulders when she rearranged it, keeping an eye on him. It was an interesting picture, a mercenary resting at ease in a place where he clearly didn't belong.

A suspicious thought speared through Helena's head, straightening her spine with a sudden realization.

"Have you done this before?"

"Perhaps," he said. He had to be smirking, with the way his words carried an undertone to them, his tone shifted.

"That's pretty creepy."

He rolled his head back up to look at her with hooded eyes. Nevertheless the look he gave her was as always sharp and alert.

"More than imprisoning you and keeping you close for my own amusement?"

"You don't want me to forget that?" Helena sighed. Not a day when either of them fooled themselves, it seemed.

She slid off the mattress.

"You could pretend, Bane." A shiver ran up her spine when her feet touched the cold floor. "I could play along," she tempted, enjoying how his eyes stayed at level with her breasts. "Wouldn't you like that? Your own private fantasy."

His eyebrows shot up at her last word, then he frowned and looked up at the scribe head tilted a fraction to the side.

"I think you are mistaken when it comes to the contents of my fantasies, my dear."

"I probably am," she admitted. After all, she barely knew him. "So, you're staying in this chair for the time being?"

"Perhaps."

It was too tempting not to make a show of ogling him and Helena didn't resist. She rested her hands comfortably on her hips, hitching her nightgown a bit, stretching the fabric over her thighs.

"You do look like you could make for a passable cushion."

"Indeed? Be my guest, have a test ride." He studied her with amusement, opening his arms in a welcoming gesture.

"Ride, he says," she muttered, slithering sideways onto his thighs. She didn't move to face the desk, or the mercenary, instead she leaned back to perch more comfortably against Bane's muscular body.

"Shouldn't you be working?"

"That's the beauty of our little arrangement. The schedule is not as rigid as one might think."

"Are you saying my people are lax around you?" He stroked her arms, playing with fuzz on her skin, threading his fingers with hers for a brief and subtle caress.

"Oh no, James for example never let's me stay in the bathroom longer than fifteen minutes."

"None of your guards is called James," he noted.

"Son of a bitch," she muttered. "Really?" She craned her head to look at him.

"Perhaps." Tired smirk on his face was apparent, even despite the mask.

"You're toying with me again."

"Here for my amusement," he reminded.

"And the manuscript is a labour of love, right." She sighed.

His hand stilled, fingers cupping her breasts.

"You expect a compensation?" The tone was mocking as usual, but with a strained quality to it. Was it only fatigue?

"I thought we negotiated my freedom, at the very least."

"It is a broad term, freedom. Aren't you free from obligations here?"

"All but one," she murmured, molding her back more comfortably against his chest, bracing with her palms on his thighs.

"But that is a courtesy, is it not?"

"Are you talking about the book or my fucking you?"

"This is not an obligation," he reminded, somber.

"You're right, this feels more like a mistake."

"Perhaps it is."

"You're absolutely right, Bane." She smiled saying that, not in the least inclined to stop what they were doing. That wasn't really a question. They both knew very well all points for and against their current arrangement, and undoubtedly there were more against. "You do make a passable cushion, but there is one thing not quite right."

"What is it?"

"There appears to be a lump, and it's really uncomfortable to sit on." She wiggled, pushing her ass insistently to his abdomen.

"Let me remedy that." Again, with clear mirth, even if a bit fatigued.

What did he do to strain his inhuman endurance to this point?

She didn't wonder about it further, because it was too difficult to focus with Bane's strong forearm effortlessly hitching her higher up his chest. She strained her legs to retain purchase on the supporter stretchers, while he opened his slacks. Her head fell back, and she nuzzled his masked jaw, getting a rough caress of the cold metal on her neck in return. Buckles of his wristbrace scratched slightly on the inside of her thigh, the leather itself a cool, buttery glide on her overheated skin. He pushed aside her panties, not bothering even to get rid of them his favourite way. Helena tested the tension in his muscles, gripping tightly his forearm. She smiled when flesh underneath her palms danced with strained movement as he slowly lowered her back to his pelvis. His right hand stayed splayed over her pussy, guiding his cock inside, and then keeping her clothes out of the way.

Helena mewled and sighed, not patient enough to wait for Bane to move, immediately grinding her hips in painfully slow circles. She felt him relax behind her, shifting her back with him to sit slumped in the chair, the wood cracking and groaning under their combined shifting weight. The arm holding her up loosened, and he followed the curves of her body, palming her breasts and teasing with light scratches at her neck. Up and up, until he delicately gripped her jaw and craned her head up. As if for a kiss.

She wanted nothing more then, her mouth agape, brows furrowed and throat full of moans.

He pressed hard the hand over her pussy, the pressure on her clit unrelenting, as he savored the glide of his cock in and out, all the while holding her folds apart with two fingers. She tightened, sucking in her bottom lip, straining under his heated gaze. She hooked her left arm behind his head, clawing at the back of his neck, her right hand circled over his right bicep, hard as a rock even while shifting with rhythmic movements of his palm. Her hips moved of their own accord, grinding over him, keeping his cock inside at all times. She wasn't ready to let him slide out even for a second, the shifting pressure outside as well as in enough to bring her nearly to the end.

Bane smoothed his thumb over her lips, eyes glued to her every reaction. She opened her mouth wider, inviting him in, closing her eyes when he gently slid rough pad of his digit over her tongue. He hissed when she sucked him in further, scratching with her teeth, greedy and lustful. His hips joined her movements, shifting up with urgency, speeding up already quickened pace.

He whined low in his throat, the throbbing sound Helena knew all too well already, one he made when he wanted something he couldn't get.

"Would you kiss me now if you could?" she asked breathlessly, twisting her head away, shifting her body forward to brace her hands on his knees.

Bane let her change the position, following her movements with palms circling her hips, panting heavily down her neck.

"Do not tease me," he growled, "I have no patience left for it."

He made her gasp with a forceful pull down his cock.

"But I want to feel you," she argued. "I want to know how would it be to have you filling me up everywhere, all at once."

The mask was pressed painfully to her shoulder, and he didn't answer, instead pumping her hips over his shaft with growing strength.

Helena fisted coarse fabric under her hands, trying to control the tremors coursing down her spine. Her legs slid off the support, shifting her uncontrollably lower. Bane moaned with her and hooked her knee back up, opening her wider still with a strong palm clutching underside of her thigh.

She looked on her bed with unseeing eyes, giving him everything she could, braced on him with outstretched hands. Her head fell when the climax hit her unexpectedly with a strong surge of Banes hips, her arms buckled under her weight.

She felt him shuffle his hands to support her better, moving back to pressing her to his chest with an arm across her ribcage.

He must have felt how her heart fluttered, how her breaths hitched with every spasm of her muscles around his cock.

"There will be a day when I will have you in every way I want," he promised, growling the words through clenched teeth, the mask making it sound like a threat. "I will know how you smell everywhere, I will know how does your cunt taste, how does your nipples feel on my tongue."

Helena gasped, her hands now pressed to her pussy, feeling the sawing of Bane's cock inside her. She was so wet his thighs were damp, the fabric of his slacks together with his skin. She felt every contortion in his body, pressing her closer and closer, in ever slowing and shorter bursts.

Finally he came, transferring both hands to force her hips down as he ground up. The chair creaked loudly, complaining over the force with which he pressed his body to the backrest. Helena gasped at the feeling, in unison with Bane's groan.

He panted with his head thrown back over the backrest, thumbs drawing circles on Helena's skin.

"I'm pleasantly surprised the chair pulled through."

She chuckled through still heaving breaths.

"My breakfast is probably stone cold by now."

"I'll have them bring you something fresh from the kitchens," Bane offered absentmindedly.

"No need, it's fine. I usually don't get into it before it's lukewarm anyway." With a hiss she slid off of him on unsteady legs, threw on her thin robe.

"Why?"

The question made her turn back to him from the window for a moment. Her fingers sneaked over papers strewn across the windowsill.

"There's something in the quality of the morning air here. I don't know what exactly makes it special, maybe it's the altitude we're at, or perhaps the latitude…" She raised some sketches she made to the window, frowning at the lines barely visible in the faint light. "Enough said, there's a tint in the early hours of the morning, making the air shimmer. Did you notice?"

Bane kept looking at her quizzically, as if he dozed off with his eyes open, as if he forgot a response was expected of him.

Helena brushed her hair off her face, a stubborn strand that grew too long and kept escaping her haphazard hairdo.

"I tried to get it down on paper, but it eludes me," she sighed, throwing the sketches back. "So many things keep eluding me here."

Rising her head to the sky she blinked sudden unwelcome tears away. Maybe that was the shimmer she chased. The tender moment between reality and realization, the fantasy that couldn't be, but seemed so close.

She stayed by the window when she heard click of the door being shut, and after a while watched Bane scale the courtyard back to his turret. His men greeted him, and he followed their words with something kind, because everyone he met came out with a smile and an energetic spring in their gait.

oOo

* * *

 **Comment responses here!**

 **Lia, thank you so much! Getting an email with a comment is the best gift a writer cam get, and one like yours is just perfect. Hope you enjoyed this little piece as well. :)**

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 **Undercooked Cookie, Hell yesssssss! 😸 Here's another crumble to get you through the withdrawals. Also, I'm sometimes posting snippets on tumblr, just so you know...**


	12. Sculptor, the last part of chapter no 5

**I hope you will enjoy this short chapter.**

 **As always, many thanks to ThreeDamnDots, who wastes so much of her time on me. :)  
** **Review responses at the very end, as usual.**

* * *

 _Sculptor, or shaping the future one day at a time._

 _In which stigma is exposed, exploited and expanded._

* * *

 **Part 5.5**

 **The Stigma**

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oOo

How many times does one have the opportunity to see a person dying? In a whole lifetime that could easily be zero, at least nowadays with ambulances whisking patients away; with anonymity damning old and suffering to a solitary, quiet death in solace of their dwellings. To be a part of a terrible, unexpected and frantic scene, to see with one's own eyes the struggle to preserve life was a shocking reality.

Helena counted the times she witnessed death. There was the boy Bane pummelled during that ritualistic scuffle back in Armenia. She remembered vividly how she felt then, how sickened she was with the instinctive surge of pride at the mercenary's victory.

Then there was the corpse of the guard who let her escape. Not technically falling under death, but his execution was swift and noiseless, and incredibly fast. One minute he was being escorted towards the Chapel, dragging his feet and using every opportunity to lengthen his time under the rainy sky, and the next his body was being hauled out unceremoniously. Spent shell, no longer needed, no longer useful. Was there any pride to be spared though, for the dying? Was it possible to retain one's dignity at least?

Do not go gently into that good night…

Anna clawed at her throat and gasped, desperate for the tiniest gulp of air. But then she was just a shell, kept at the brink of life, useless, a burden if anything at all.

Can one really come to terms with people dying before their very eyes?

The memory of the whole brunch was tainted now, as was the mood of all who attended. Helena wondered briefly if others watched how she behaved, if they were surprised by Bane's bearing, if they wondered themselves about this whole situation…

It was surreal.

Merely half an hour later, she was sitting on the sofa in Bane's cottage, sipping her 'sleep-well' tea. He refused to let her be alone at her place and she didn't really feel like arguing about it; were it possible she would love to go to bed with him, bury into the covers and the solid mass of his warm body and wash away all the tension and unhealthy excitement of the last hour. For the time being, they had to make do with sleeping in separate rooms. So instead of cuddling up, she watched him pace as he talked with Graham on the phone, calm and concise and commanding. If anything should happen to her, Bane would be the first to react. He knew what to do and he had a baffling amount of experience on his hands, along with monumental restraint.

Would he retain his control, though, if it was her suffocating instead of Anna?

Her mind shot to the last night they shared the bed. No calmness then, but tons of repressed instincts and reflexes, little involuntary jerks of his body, like he had to have himself under constant check. Almost perfect governance over what he did, always. Maybe that's why every lapse felt like such a failure.

Chugging the remainder of her tea she got up and left the mug on the kitchen counter, smiling mischievously when Bane shot her an annoyed glare and went after her to put the beaker into the dishwasher, never stopping his conversation.

She showered briefly to get rid of the grime of the day, waiting for the tub to fill with warm water, frothy with a combination of salts and some fragrant oils she poured in with gusto. Bane came in just when she rummaged through the cupboards, clad only in her bath towel, looking for candles.

"Need assistance?"

"I'm good. Hop on into the shower and then consider yourself invited into my bath."

"Do you think the tub is big enough for us both?" He taunted.

"We'll see. At least this one doesn't look like it would topple over…"

"That depends on what we choose to do inside there."

"Shower," she growled, shaking her head with a smile.

Watching him clean himself from the comfortable warmth of the bath was making her sluggish. He was separated from her with a clear pane of glass matted with steam, a blur of flesh-coloured movement, dotted with streaks of white. How would he look up close covered in foam? She smiled and leaned back. How many nights had she spent like this, imagining him, or pretending that the body on the other side of the partition was Bane instead of some beefcake she picked up? All those times she asked to be on her knees, facing away and kidding herself that was enough to believe that the man behind her was Bane, that it was him holding her in her bed, or in some hotel, or in an unfamiliar apartment.

A slow hum brought her thoughts back to the present. There he was, in the flesh, skin glistening with moisture, reflecting light off of powerful muscles marred by scars. A map of an eventful life. Sven said an intelligent man with this many marks, this old, had to be dangerous.

She felt safe now, safer than ever before.

"What were you talking about with Graham?"

"Some details of what happened tonight, what could happen tomorrow."

"You needed half an hour to get that Anna had an anaphylaxis shock?"

"I conferred with our charming policeman, too. He had some interesting observations."

Helena frowned, sitting up straight, bringing her knees close to her chest.

"Didn't she have an allergic reaction?"

"Perhaps she had."

Her previous light-heartedness vanished briefly.

"What other options are there?" She frowned, murmuring to herself.

"Let's not talk about it tonight," Bane proposed. "I'd rather enjoy a tub that can fit us both. Finally."

"Yeah, at long last," Helena chuckled.

Bane sighed when he got into the tub, immediately relaxing into the warmth of the water. A snicker on his side and he sneaked his feet behind Helena's back, effectively trapping her before him.

The temptation of sliding her hands on his skin was too big and she gladly gave in, leaning back, looking at him with half lidded eyes. Her gaze stayed steady when she pushed with her feet slightly on his chest. The scars there looked older than they actually were. Was it Venom's miraculous effect or something else?

"Let's plant the herbs tomorrow. "

"Sure." Pads of her fingers slid effortlessly under the water, feeling the coarse texture of hair on Bane's legs, even more scars and a surprisingly delicate plane of unblemished skin behind his knees.

He squirmed a bit, but didn't otherwise object, himself content with caressing Helena's feet and ankles with long unhurried strokes.

"I thought a shared bath would be somewhat more thrilling."

"I'm content with this," Bane noted with a lazy smile.

The unhurried pace of their mutual touching and an all-surrounding warmth were intoxicating in their own respect.

"If you keep this up I will fall asleep," Helena warned playfully, a half-truth.

"I'll carry you to bed then."

She sighed in response, leaving his skin to grab onto the edges of the tub. "That will not do, dear Dr Dorrance. I have to change the sheets."

He barked out a small laugh and let her come out, grinning as well over the astounding normalcy of the conversation.

It was so easy to fall into the routine of a couple, to give and take comfort freely as needed and requested, to be carefree. Almost as if they didn't fight and bleed with emotion only hours before. Almost as if no one was harmed less than two hours prior.

What did Bane mean, perhaps there were other reasons for Anna's episode? What options were there? A poisoning?

A fuzzy and soft towel wrapped around her from the back, along with strong arms encircling her shoulders.

"You really need to grab some sleep."

"Will you help me with the bedding?"

He hummed and kissed her neck.

For the next quarter of an hour Helena tried to forget the pang of worry that manifested after Bane's words. As usual, she tangled the duvet cover, getting lost inside the expanse of white linen to add an insult to injury. Bane fished her out, but only after he finished tucking the sheet into a crisp, even plane over the mattress.

"How did you manage to put sheets on when I wasn't here?"

"I had other helpers." She quipped spitefully, pouting.

The silence behind her was heavy with disappointment.

"I really wish you'd stop reminding me of your numerous affairs."

Bane's quiet voice sounded matter-of-factly at first glance, but she knew better.

"Why?"

He didn't look at her, pretending to focus on the sheets.

"Because there were so many of them."

"Why does it bother you?"

"Why does it bother me?" The question was sharp, not shouted out, but delivered with such force lesser man would wince on impact. Helena saw it happening, knew the intent behind it. Remembered how it used to precede a palm nonchalantly splayed over a vulnerable plane of a throat…

She refocused and made herself smile.

"That is what I asked, yes."

Helena didn't want to argue with Bane. But it showed how he tensed when she joked with Alex earlier in the day, how he circled her protectively when Sven whisked her away for a chat, how he kept on observing her, her interactions, through the ordeal of the brunch.

Wasn't he sure where she stood? Was he jealous? Disturbed with her promiscuity?

"I don't enjoy the thought of you enjoying other men."

There it was.

"Ah, but darling you're looking at this the wrong way." She stepped closer, taking the opportunity to gently pull the duvet out of his hands, carelessly throwing it to the bed. "No matter how many others there were before and after we first met, you are the one I chose." She reached up to run her fingers gently down the back of his neck. "Even when you weren't close, even when the prospect of meeting you was non-existent, even when I remembered how much you hurt me and I hurt you… You remained the only one I want."

"If you put it this way it doesn't sound half as bad."

oOo

If it weren't for the memory of past day, Helena could have sworn everything was perfect in the world. The weather was still a bit chilly but sun shone brightly, warming up their little plot. Bane made breakfast and ushered her to work right after; commandeering with brash confidence on everything that needed to be done. Somehow the garden turned from her project into his. He researched the best places to put the herbs in, knew all requirements and argued with steady confidence over which plants would have to wait until it gets warmer to be put out in the open.

Helena took everything in stride, enjoying the alien sensation of for once working with Bane, instead of for him. He was an easy man to follow, charismatic even during the smallest tasks, effortlessly taking control of the situation.

They surveyed for the last time layout of the herb patch, the plants carefully arranged over spots they would soon be put into. Last minute adjustments were interrupted with Helena's phone ringing in the cottage.

"I'll see what it's about," she murmured, taking off her gloves on the way. Before she opened the door she heard Bane's own mobile coming to life.

The news were grim. Grace called to say Anna had passed away an hour earlier, unable to wake from the coma she fell in last night. Already the mourning and funeral preparations were in motion, since Sven had no other family but his daughter. As Grace said, it was their duty as his friends to lift the weight of responsibility off his shoulders at a time like this. Helena nodded through, watching as Bane calmly conferred outside. He finished his first call and immediately dialled another. She absentmindedly agreed to everything Grace proposed, walking cautiously back to the terrace.

Bane was speaking with Tirill now.

How did he manage to have every phone number he needed?

Before Helena arranged all necessities with Grace, Bane was already calling yet another person.

When they both finished, he looked at her with a pensive frown. His shoulders were straight, muscles taut with tension.

He probably could use a massage, she thought absentmindedly. Same treatment wouldn't hurt herself. But it was early and they had a full schedule, for now. With a sigh, she went back to the herbs, putting on her gloves.

"Let's finish this."

Bane nodded curtly and joined her. For a long while they worked in silence, digging holes, taking off the nursery pots, fiddling with positioning of each plant. Helena kept stealing quick glances Bane's way, concerned over a determined wrinkle around his lips. He was plotting something.

Helena on the other hand felt oddly relieved. The woman who died was her friend, yet not a close one. She passed away swiftly, so the fact of her death registered only superficially in her mind. She knew, but didn't yet feel the burden death usually placed on the living.

Or perhaps, she mused, she was beyond caring?

"Do you know how a sculptor works, Helena?"

The question startled her, seemingly out of the blue, not linked to anything in particular. But it was Bane. He had to have a point.

"Enlighten me."

"He studies his material before he picks up the chisel. He learns of its limitations and possibilities, traces veins in the stone, growth rings in the wood, bendiness of the metal alloys. Only then he reaches out to the very core and unveils his vision. To understand who sculpted the scene we saw at Easter, we need to understand who could imagine it, the situation it was created in."

"You think Anna's attack was provoked on purpose?"

"Indeed."

Despite the weight of the subject, Helena felt her lips stretching in a grin. She bit her lip to contain it at least a little.

"So you do want to be a sleuth, Monsieur Dorrance!"

"Helena," he shook his head with a warning glance. "I can't stand the thought of someone close to you having this power. We need to know who did it. We need to see if the danger has passed. We need to know if it hit where intended or if perhaps the direction of the attack was somehow altered."

The sombre tone deflated her amusement and she nodded, her head lowered a bit in passing shame. It was her friend who died, yet Bane was seemingly much more affected than she.

"We need to be prepared… For every possibility. Betrayal never comes from an enemy."

oOo

* * *

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 **Batmanbane: Why, thank you dear. :D More of that in store for later!**

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* * *

 **Did you know that "stigma" is actually the name of one part of a plant?**

 **Also, never hesitate to leave me a piece of your mind.**


	13. Cetus

**Yo!**

 **Did you expect next one to be out this fast? ;) This piece was waiting its turn since first chapter of Sculptor. Took me long enough to finish it.**

 **November is upon us... Also, we're creeping closer and closer to a Christmas Special Surprise! :D**

 **Anyway, enjoy the read. :)**

* * *

 _Cetus - a sea monster, fearsome creature from the furthest depths of the oceans. One was slain by Perseus to save Andromeda; yet another by Heracles in similar circumstance. Greedy bastards, those sea creatures, all apparently thirsting for the blood of women. Or companionship.  
_ _Whichever it is, they do seem to be quite lonely creatures…_

* * *

oOo

Pain. White, searing in its intensity, unforgiving and insistent. He was a supernova; expanding, ready to implode to a red dwarf. Or morph into oblivion of a black hole.

With titanic effort he made himself focus on the external. There was a stimulus he should be registering. What was it?

As if from underwater it emerged, the familiar voice muffled behind slosh of blood in his ears.

"...So tired of your shit. You drive everyone away, and still here we are, fucking clinging to every tiny shred of life we both can. What was all that for anyway? You should have turned your back on that bitch and left with Helena a long time ago. You'd have few kids by now and peace. A white fucking fence house in the suburbs. But no. No. You had to keep pushing the odds, you had to try and change the fate of someone who was long gone from your life. I bet you don't even realize you sacrificed your future for your past. And it bit you in your dumb ass."

"I… Know…," he managed to say.

The voice was gone, but now there were hands around him, moistening his parched lips with a cold splash of water, poking and prodding.

"Do you know where you are?"

"No."

"Your name?"

"...Which one?"

An amused, relieved chuckle.

"Choose the one that you'll be using from now on," another friendly voice chimed in, the one from before.

"Tony."

"...Okay."

The surprise was understandable. He didn't share this alias with anyone, even with Talia.

"We're going out of Gotham. Should be somewhere close to the trawler. Trogg is waiting there, we'll get you on the yacht, and then to the hideout in Bermuda."

"What day is it?"

"The day you said 'fuck you' straight into the face of death. Again."

Bane would smile if muscles in his face could cooperate to form a grimace. A day like any other, then.

"Rest now."

oOo

Light. So much light he frowned and squished his eyelids together, trying his hardest to block it from piercing his retinas. Awareness of his laboured breathing registered in the same moment he recognized the edges of a mask on his face. Not his metal monstrosity, but a regular clear plastic, a medical one.

Drawing breaths was painful, but what did he have left if not his endurance. Slowly, his mind picked up on more information. Pulsating heat over his ribs, tightness suggesting cracked bones underneath. Some fabric stretching over his arms, shoulders and torso, elastic and slick, masking strain of skin there.

Idly, he let his mind wander. What was his last memory? An ally ranting somewhere dark and cold. Why did he let them babble away? And before that?

Nothing.

He wanted to have a computer at his hands, needed to see what Helena was doing. What would she be up to today?

What was the date again?

Sighing, he cracked his eyes open. Well, the light wasn't as bad this time. Blinking slowly he tried to focus on anything. White ceiling, shaded slightly, but brightened with shifting pools of light. A window to the right, floor to ceiling panel of glass. Open, letting in a warm breeze, muslin curtains dancing in the wind. Intensely blue sky beyond, lush greenery shielding way to nearby vividly teal sea.

Bermuda?

With some effort he turned his head to the left. The skin pulled, but as always he swallowed the discomfort, intent on acquiring more knowledge of his whereabouts.

Just in time that he did. The doors that were on that side of the room opened. Bane knew the name and occupation of the woman who entered, but couldn't fathom why she was here.

She stepped closer to his bed, pausing to glance at machines whirring softly on his bedside.

"You should be sleeping still," she said. From pocket of a green dress, flowing and summery, she produced a vial. There was a syringe in some drawer by the machines, and she used it to administer contents of the vial into the tube connected to Bane's left forearm.

He watched as green liquid travelled down the plastic, finally reaching his body.

"Why are you here, Dr Isley?" He asked, groggy and content.

The pain dulled to a level he could more than live with. Very tolerable.

"Rest."

He smiled at the clicking sound of heels on wooden floor. He had some very fond memories of an evening spent while being circled by a woman in stilettos. There was a token he snatched from her then, hidden with his other treasures, a strip of red lace reminding him of all that his greedy nature craved.

He was still smiling, falling into the comfort of sleep.

oOo

The evening was balmy and pleasant, and he felt no pain. His vision swam, shadows morphing in pale moonlight into ghosts of his past. The priest, looking at him over the rim of a book, glasses shattered endless times and haphazardly put together one time too many, hanging low on his aquiline nose. Talia, as she was so long ago, fresh from exercise, almost grown but still clinging to him for advice and support. Beautiful and deadly, but still innocent in her honesty towards him. Ducard, watching him silently from the shadows. Judging, always judging. Always finding flaws when there were none. Forging weaknesses from the smallest chips in Bane's armour, scraping for purchase to discredit him, to show how incompetent he thought Bane truly was… The Demon Head never dared to challenge him out in the open, not after he completed his training. Not after he became the symbol that he was, the beacon for all amongst their ranks who thought themselves inferior.

He was a nobody, and that gave him strength.

Faces came and went, blending with the shadows like smoke, veiled with blur of intoxication, morphing from men to women, from friends to foes, an ever changing parade of information he didn't want.

Bane never turned his eyes away. Not when he looked once again into the furious eyes of his first kill, a man so low he wanted to rape a child. Not when he looked into the eyes of Talia's mother, scared and resigned, so clear when she was whisked away from before him. Not even when he saw an inanimate object come to life, climbing his bed to sit at his feet, staring. The plush was worn out and tattered, letting some of the filling out. One arm and eye were missing entirely, but the brown bear didn't seem to mind, staring resolutely at Bane.

Of course he wouldn't mind, he wasn't real.

"Why are you here, old friend?"

"I'm wondering about it myself."

The voice was Barsad's, but that didn't surprise Bane any more than Osito talking to him in the first place. Only natural for him to have attributes of his most loyal companion.

"I'm so tired."

"I am as well," Bane admitted. "But we will endure."

"What for? The better world we thought we're going to build? It's not here. And we weren't able to cut a piece of happiness for ourselves with the life we were leading up until now anyway."

"You are correct. What do you propose?"

"Let us die and be reborn."

Bane chuckled. The easiest way out, it seemed.

"I will fade into shadows. Your path is more dangerous than mine, so I will leave you to your own contemplations. In time perhaps we will meet again. In a better setting, somewhere where neither of us would have to wear a mask."

Through a haze of chemical smell of drugs, Bane managed to grasp a thought passing behind his eyes with a murmur of butterfly wings. If a teddy bear wore a mask, what was lying beneath?

"I would like that," he concluded eventually.

His eyes dropped to the silvery fabric coating his arms and torso.

Fish scales? He must be dreaming that up too, he thought idly with a hint of amusement. So he was turning into a monster from the seas now. How oddly fitting it seemed.

"Good for you." The voice trailed around him, followed by soft click and never ending rustle of the curtains. Like murmur of the water. The sea was so close, he wanted to stroll over and immerse himself in the warmth of it again. Like a true creature of the deep, longing to return home.

What was home now, anyway?

When he raised his head back up, the visions were gone.

oOo

Next time when he awoke, he remembered.

There was a hitch in Gotham. A thousand mistakes and missteps, all cascading together into a torrent of failure. Talia wanted them all there, to lead them into fiery death. A queen, sacrificing herself for the greater good; and all her subjects, whether they shared her views or not.

He remembered a brawl before the city hall. Policemen marching proudly to face the oppressive force of the league of shadows. A fight with Wayne. He lost it, somehow. Talia delivering her speech and then the trouble with the trigger. The signal was jammed, so she ran to amend it. He was supposed to kill Batman, he had a gun in his hand, ready, pointing… What happened then?

Darkness.

There were plenty of leads to draw some conclusions. He remembered being transported out of Gotham. The vessel was far from comfortable. Hence, a failure of their plan was most probable. Still, he was delivered here, to one of their hideouts, safe under one of Talia's aliases. So, the organization still worked.

But why was Dr Isley here? What happened to Talia? Where was Barsad, and for that matter all of his people as well?

What happened in Gotham?

"You're agitated."

Dr Isley was standing beside his bed. Why didn't he hear her enter?

"What day is it?"

"February sixteenth, two thousand seventeen."

"What?!"

Over a month. He had been unconscious for five weeks. How did that happen?

"I want answers," he hissed.

She watched him seethe, impassive and beautiful, inhumanly detached.

"You need to get your bearings first."

"If you try to put me under once again, I will kill you."

The threat wasn't idle. He grasped her neck, easily bending her body towards him, circling his fingers until they were only five centimetres apart. He could squeeze them until they met, even in his weakened state. She would have no way of preventing him, of freeing herself from his grasp.

Red hair spilled down, cool and silky over his heated flesh, clinging to rough wrappings over his arm, caressing his wrist. Under his palm he felt her throat work down a gulp. For the first time her facade cracked before him, as she twisted her lips in an enticing smile. Cold, but as genuine as it could be.

"I won't conduct a conversation in this position."

One last measuring glare and he let her go. After all, he was at her mercy, in every way.

"I won't tell you exactly what happened in Gotham, your men can fill you in on that. The basics though are this: your operation failed. Batman sacrificed himself to detonate the bomb over the bay. Talia died."

Bane let out a sigh. Involuntarily, his eyes closed. It didn't prevent tears from spilling down his cheeks.

"You have been transported here in eighteen hours. Extensive burns, impact trauma. Broken bones. They said you've been hit by a grenade or something like that, that you should have been ripped open." She snorted, obviously dissatisfied with quality of assessment made by someone else. "My Venom kept you together, and that impressive build of yours, and a vest, they said you had something protecting the vitals. Anyway, you've been brought here, to the Bahama hideout, and I took care of your convalescence."

"Why?"

"Miranda asked for it, in case something happened to her."

There was a thread of sorrow in the admission.

Bane slid down to the pillows. Of course, now it all made sense.

"You killed Porter because his Venom was ineffective."

"And he was tinkering with it further in a suspicious direction. Why didn't she tell you?"

"Because she would expose her cards, and that was too much."

"I also made some progress in her medication." Startled gasp from Bane made her look at him with a frown. "You didn't know."

"That she was taking something? I knew there was a thing, but she never shared in on her issues," he whispered bitterly.

"She wanted to."

"What else did she confide in you?" He couldn't shake the resentment out of his tone. Why would he? Talia ignored his offers of help, of companionship, relying instead on this stranger. Not on a man who brought her up, who sacrificed himself over and over again. Who gave her the best years of his life…

Pamela's harmonious voice cut through his angry inner tirade.

"She hated your devotion. Always wanted to be an equal, but you protected her when she wanted to take risks, guided when she didn't need guidance. She wanted to walk with you, but you left her only the spot behind. That's why she kept you in the dark, to maintain her advantage."

"Like she did with her father."

"You both throttled her."

"She never understood how dangerous she was to herself. I had to protect her!"

"But she outsmarted you anyway." The woman's voice grew softer. "I had hopes for her as well. I thought we could work together to better the world. To clean poisoned waters, to filter out soured air."

"And you never saw she would salt the earth under her enemies, even if it meant it would leave her without sustenance. Provided she won, she would do anything."

"No, you're mistaken about her. You still can't see her reasoning, don't want to understand her point."

"De mortuis nil nisi bonum dicendum est,"* he whispered.

She stared at him, without pity and without understanding.

"Leave," he ordered.

oOo

Another visitor came to Bane's room soon after his argument with Dr Isley.

Civilian clothing suited James well, bringing out the perfect symmetry of his features, accentuating the velvety smoothness of his dark skin. He looked like an affluent retiree, still in his prime but well past caring about inconsequential details of daily life.

"Report," Bane ordered instead of greeting.

Brief pause to collect a chair was all he had to prepare for detailed description of his failure.

James's voice was steady and calm as he recollected the events from the brawl before the City Hall. Barsad was shot by the Police Commissioner, left to die on the street. Foley himself killed by Talia's tumbler. Someone saw Selina Kyle riding up the stairs of the Hall on Batman's futuristic bike, then the rocket propelled missile was launched and from the rubble emerged only her and Wayne. Talia crashed with her truck trying to reach the bomb. The mercenaries who managed to escape the brawl with the police, a third of the number that started the fight, dispersed around various hideouts around the city.

According to procedures, they laid low, prolonging time for regrouping in favour of maintaining as many assets as possible. Also, their leader was presumed dead. But four weeks were the most they could go without reporting in, and Bane himself stretched that boundary already.

James escorted Bane through one of many tunnels under the city, transferring him onto a trawler and then on a yacht bound for Bermuda. He was treated nearly immediately, Trogg's state of the art technology paired with Dr Isley's innate and uncanny grasp over workings of Bane's body and superior manipulation of chemistry making his convalescence miraculously short. He was patched up with fish skin, laser beams, copious amounts of Venom and his own steely resolve not to die.

But now that he listened to word after word of a tale that conveyed his failure, he found himself sinking into an abyss of pain. His little girl was killed by her own ambition, and he didn't even manage to realize her wish of destroying Gotham. Instead he was left alone, with the bitter taste of defeat in his mouth.

"Boss?"

James looked at him with a hint of concern in his eyes. The same look he had on that drab day when he came to the gallery overlooking Helena's operation.

"I'm listening."

"I wasn't speaking for a while now. I'll leave you to rest." He got up, chair legs scraping slightly on wooden floor.

"Did you notice how blue the water here is?" Bane murmured. He remembered an evening when he brushed past the greenery to a pristine beach, floated on waves of his pain in the sea.

"Very picturesque." James's reply was neutral in a way that showed his cautiousness.

"He who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe is as good as dead."

The silence was ringing in his ears, despite whirring and buzzing of machines he was hooked up to. James stood motionless by the chair.

"I watched the explosion." The whisper was hoarse and sudden. "Not the one over the bay, but the one that got you. The dust from stone was like chalk. Suffocating and dense, even though I'm used to all that shit. And you were there, just lying. So motionless you looked like a statue, a fallen warrior in marble, if not for streaks of fresh blood pooling around you. I have no idea how you're not dead. Don't waste your life away."

He left with a soft clink of the door handle. Bane's head never moved from his observation of the sea.

oOo

Bane was recovering startlingly fast. Even if he was agitated from the information he obtained from Pamela and James, his accelerated convalescence was proof enough that he was doing well.

They relocated to a yacht on open sea, finishing his rehabilitation on deck. Bane requested they stay in the Azores for the remainder of his convalescence, and they debated, as a group, whether that really was the best idea.

The ship was small, and crew even smaller. Himself with Trogg and James, Dr Isley, Solomon Gundy - Poison Ivy's assistant, and two sailors from Talia's Bermudas mansion - Bald Stephen and Lanky David. Everyone had their turn in a discussion, to Bane's amazement. He didn't try to impose his view, choosing instead calm reasoning. The spot was perfect, isolated and set in between Americas, Europe and Africa. The perfect crossroads to decide where to go next.

Few days and they were docking in Praia da Victoria, letting Bane walk on solid ground around Terceira and enjoy the windy weather. James was wandering along with him sometimes, but mostly he kept with the sailors, apparently smitten with inner workings and secrets of the yacht. She was gracious towards his advances, bending ropes and unveiling her secrets with benevolence of a lover.

Bane was floating, detached from the world.

Talia made sure the care he received was not a courtesy of the League of Shadows. This time, he wasn't left with a tab to settle with his servitude or his blood. It was his little girl who was settling her debt, and it left him hollow.

For once, Bane was truly and completely his own master.

He didn't attempt to contact anyone, choosing his next step carefully, trying to strategize over every possibility. Nyssa was safe in London during the Gotham Operation, and Sensei was commanding over the skeleton crew in League Headquarters in Norway. His old stronghold, carelessly given away. If he'd like to act as an independent mercenary again, he'd have to build his empire back nearly from scratch. He was sure the command over League of Shadows would be assumed by Nyssa by now, a natural course of action when both her superiors were either dead or missing. His return now would bring only chaos, resentment and another struggle for power he didn't want to trouble himself with.

His ambition, once the force propelling him forward, now seemed like a sea monster lurking around the island, waiting for him to set his feet back on a ship. He would be devoured, taken into a whirlwind of greed and aspiration, jumping from one objective to another in a Sisyphean task of keeping reins of power in his grasp. Ever shifting, ever feeble, ever changing.

But what did he have for himself instead, if not continuing his life's work?

oOo

The tea was lukewarm. Bane contemplated adding some hot water to it when James knocked at his cabin door.

"Enter," he said mildly, pouring in hot liquid from the thermos.

His officer sat down on narrow bench, elbows on knees, palms fiddling with straps of his slacks.

"I'm getting out of the League," he said.

Bane hummed in response.

"I think you knew already. Still, I didn't want to just go without a word."

The uncharacteristic talkativeness was wondering to Bane. He expected a farewell. Maybe a few words. This looked like a longer conversation with more than just adieu on the agenda. James looked uneasy.

"Listen, I know it's not my place to lecture you. I'm far from it. But I feel like you could use some help with deciding where you are now."

"I'm at the crossroads."

"Pretty much what I wanted to say, yeah."

"Astra inclinant, sed non obligant"***

As usual, his lapse into Latin was met with a minute surprise and a resigned shake of James's head.

"...Most likely. Listen, before I lose my nerve. I know you probably never would like to look for a woman, but you could use now to have someone like Helena. Like back in the monastery. I remember back then you were the most comfortable I ever saw you, before or after. I know it's not my place, and I know she probably has moved on with her life, but it was good. Having someone around to just be yourself with. Without demands. Sure, she had her pretty fucked up episodes, but I blame that on the circumstances."

"Me too," Bane smiled. "You're settling your own loose ends?"

"I intend to."

"Your sister?"

"How did you…? Yes, my half-sister."

"Audentes fortuna adiuvat," he murmured to himself and to James he translated. "Fortune favours the bold."

"Are you going to take your own advice?"

"Perhaps."

"I'll hitch a ride with Dave and Solomon. Trogg made me the papers." He sighed and looked blandly at the ceiling. "I wonder if I can still remember how it feels to live like a normal person."

There wasn't much more to tell. Bane stoically sipped on his cold drink, watching his guest nod one last time, a determined set of his jaw the only hint at his resolve not being as strong as he'd like. Nevertheless, before he went, James paused at the door.

"You've already decided, haven't you?"

"Perhaps." Bane smirked.

"Is there someplace I shouldn't be visiting then?"

"I'm not sure. That depends on what Helena decides."

Again, he smiled at James's gaping.

"Good for you Tony, good for you."

Just when Bane thought the door would shut after James, the man turned around.

"You know, back in Armenia I was also one of Talia's informants. It wasn't only Birdman. I don't know how many others reported to her, but I want you to know I never told her anything I thought could harm you. She always wanted the best for you."

"I know."

oOo

Coping with pain was something Bane grew to expect. It was an afterthought in his life; passing mention, but always there. Always a factor. His back was hurting, muscles were weakened with prolonged rest, joints scraped with every movement. Newly restored skin was uncomfortably taut over his chest, forearms and stomach.

Still, it all worked, every limb and cell still strived to propel him forward, wherever he set his eyes to. Medication dulled the worst of it, took off the edge, so he endured, pushing forward like he always did, focusing on the pleasant details.

For a week he marvelled over every bit and scrap of the food he got, eventually commandeering the tiny kitchen from limp possession by Steven. He didn't seem to mind, while Bane got drunk on all smells and tastes that for so long were out of his reach. Leopard printed eels turned out to be best braised, instead of deep fried as the locals preferred. The cheeses were incredible, tangy and salty, and Bane was an expert at collecting cracas - small rock-like barnacles with the sweetest taste and undeniably marine aroma.

They travelled through the archipelago, tasting every morsel the islands had to offer.

One sunny day, Bane herded everyone out of the yacht to the island. They rode in a cramped jeep, then hiked up sloping hills and joked all the time, like they didn't have a worry in the world, strong wind carrying their laugh towards the ocean. Even Trogg was lured out of his tech den, enticed by Dr Isley, carrying obediently her basket of picnic necessities. Solomon hauled a bag of drinks with a smirk, while Bane and Trogg took care of blankets and chairs.

He led them to a secluded spot by the lake, the only distinguishable trait a small marker planted into the ground close to the water. All their things were set swiftly down under the canopy, facing the beautiful picture of shimmering greenish water. Glass clinked as Solomon lined them up to be filled with water and wine, the sound mingling with chipper of birds and swoosh of cold breeze.

"What's that smoke?" Trogg asked, jerking his head towards white cloud hanging over the trees.

"It's steam," Pamela noted.

"Oh, from the hot springs?"

"Exactly," Bane chimed in. "And from our dinner."

He strolled towards the marked spot, put on gloves hanging from his pocket and brushed off the dirt from a wooden lid, then he brought some metal rods and gestured to Steven to help him. Together they unearthed two steel pots wrapped in a cloth.

"What is that?"

"Local specialty. Cozido. I made a vegetarian version, as well as the canonical one."

Dr Isley smiled at him over the rim of her glass. She was elegantly resting in one of the chairs, soft blanket draped over her legs with effortless artistry. Her fiery hair cut a striking line down the pale skin of her neck, contrasting with surrounding greenery like the most exotic of flowers.

Bane placed both pots by the table and set on to carefully ladle out portions of food. When everyone had their plates, he slouched in his seat.

No one started eating yet.

"It will get cold. Tuck in."

Biting into a piece of sausage he held his head low. It was so natural to just live day by day. He could see himself getting used to just thinking over his meals and reading books, his pastimes never veering too much into the danger of his old life.

Old life.

What was the new one?

"You probably wonder why the day trip," Bane found himself saying. "I wanted us all to share one last meal before I go."

There. The decision had been made for weeks now; he only needed to act on it. His ribs expanded in a deep breath, sending a sharp reminder of pain to steady his composure.

"What is your direction?" Trogg inquired.

"Classified."

The man snorted a short laugh.

"Good for you."

Odd thing, his men kept repeating that phrase.

"I also wanted to express my thanks for the care I received during my convalescence."

Solomon nodded with a tight smile.

Dr Isley however measured him coldly.

"So you will run away instead of mending what Miranda wanted to achieve?"

How easy it was now to just smile and say, "I have nothing more I can give her. Talia is dead. Let me live my life the way I want to."

oOo

* * *

*"To the living we owe respect, but to the dead we owe only the truth." (Voltaire)

**"He who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe is as good as dead; his eyes are closed." (Albert Einstein)

***"The stars incline us, they do not bind us" which is a pretty risque thing for Bane to say; but he's a good pal who does not judge too quick. Also, this part of the story is a little homage to "Taboo", so it's here for a reason. ;)

* * *

 **Review responses, as always here.**

 **Sxevlbtch - ha, you got your wish. ;) Although I gotta admit I'm torn between catching up on all the stories I want to read and writing my own...**

 **Lia - Why thank you. Jealous and possessive Bane will make a comeback, I can assure you. :D**


	14. Cepheus

**The idea for this story came with a fic. Or was it the other way around? I'm not sure at this point; however the pic i mentioned is real. My fantastic proofer is not only grammatically gifted, she's also a talented artist. Talk about an abundance of blessings! :D I have no idea if its possible to post pics here (doubt it), so if you're curious what it looks like - go visit my tumblr. My handle is simple - ilovehighhats.**

 **Oh, as usual, review responses are at the very bottom.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Cepheus - a king with foolish wife, taking the burden of responsibility for her careless words on himself, and paying the highest price for it...  
_ _In other words, just a regular game of chess._

* * *

oOo

Helena was bored. If she had another book presented to her to read she would seriously consider eating the tome instead. Simple comfort of watching a movie or playing a videogame bloated in her memory into an ultimate joy; leaving her with an all-encompassing desire to do something, anything, that would entertain her.

Save for reading.

Alas, there weren't any options involving any kind of electronics, she checked that with Bane a long time ago. From her daily observations she was sure the only place with any type of technology other than the radio was the Chapel. A definite no-go zone.

That left only one option.

As it was with many things, Bane anticipated her mood by some magic means, and just before she gathered her thoughts to ask he cheerfully suggested:

"Let's play chess."

She smirked at the mercenary remembering the first time he offered that, the night before they slept together for the first time. She almost won back then.

For a minute Helena pretended to mull over the idea, using that time to roam her eyes over Bane's powerful form.

He just came back from a short excursion with his men, dusty and smelling faintly of gunpowder. Maybe they went for target practice. He seemed relaxed and she grinned, watching him take off his flak jacket, the action forming another idea in her mind.

Perhaps this too would be something he'd pick up on wordlessly. There was a big chance he already had, seeing how eager he was to get her to his chambers.

"Sure, but I have a rules modification to propose," she said eventually, when the time she spent appreciating the man before her grew too long and he sent her an amused look, eyebrow cocked in obvious reprimand.

"Indeed?" He looked at her with keen eyes, halting movement of unbuckling wide brace supporting his midsection.

"Let's make it strip chess." She challenged in turn.

Bane seemed to freeze for three seconds, then his cheeks moved in a way that left no doubt over mimics under the mask. He grinned at her, finishing unhurriedly his task with the leather contraption.

"One piece of clothing for each piece on board?"

Helena tsked, shaking her head. "That would be a short round. One piece of clothing for every figure, nothing for pawns."

"A favour for every two pawns sacrificed."

"What kind of favour?" She narrowed her eyes.

Bane wiggled his eyebrows.

"No one would believe me if I told them you did that," she chuckled. "Okay, a favour but for every four pawns."

"Three."

"Deal!"

She grinned at him, then bit her lip.

"Shall we?"

"After you, madame."

She snorted and pranced to the chessboard, sitting behind the black pieces.

"Are you sure you want me to start?"

"You let me go first last time, it's only fair."

"As you wish."

But instead of moving the pieces, he leaned back and put Helena under a careful observation.

"Two shirts?"

"It's chilly today."

"Hm. Leggings under the jeans too then, I presume?"

"Long socks actually." For once the lack of appropriate garments seemed to play to her advantage.

"Very well. That's seven articles of clothing. Everything but the king has to go then," he noted, taking stock of his opponent.

"You're very sure of yourself."

"You should have kept your shoes on," he mocked.

Five minutes in, Bane was leaning onto the table, playing absentmindedly with Helena's rook. He raised his eyes from the board to admire his handiwork. Helena was pouting, stripped completely from the waist up, left with only her panties and socks. He used his 'favour' to make her start disrobing from the top instead of bottom pieces of her clothing. Meanwhile, Bane still had on everything he started with.

"I don't get it. I nearly won before and now I can barely take your pawns."

"I may have been distracted the last time we played," he admitted lightly.

"Yeah, right."

She folded her hands over her breasts, shielding them briefly from Bane's watchful eyes, but then her left hand rose up to her mouth. She plucked her bottom lip, thinking on her next move.

"If that's any consolation you're putting up a good fight."

She looked at him sharply, huffed with annoyance and furrowed her brows even more, dropping her gaze back to the game. Finally she decided on moving the last rook she had, to execute a castling.

"Very good," Bane praised. Immediately he proceeded taking her queen away with a bishop he had in position for three rounds.

"But...!" Helena left her mouth hang open, confusion clear on her face. If she'd leave the rook where it was, her queen might have been safe… "That's not fair!" She huffed and leant back in her chair.

"Everything done according to the rules is fair," he chided. "Also, I think you owe me another piece of your clothing."

"Fine," she spat. Spitefully she stood up and with one swift motion slid her underwear down to her knees. "Happy now?" She asked, plopping down on the cold chair with a slight wince.

"Did I ever mention I love this game?"

He continued to clean the board of her pawns, toying with her like a predator circling its prey. In the end he delivered the checkmate only after no other black pieces but the king were left in the game, swooping up her last Knight.

Helena noted with a degree of respect that it did require some forethought not to accidentally finish the game prematurely, seeing how many pieces Bane still had in play.

"Congratulations," she huffed unhappily.

Bane drummed his fingers on the table, his eyes fixed on the board.

"Stay," he said mildly when she moved to slide off the chair.

She tilted her head in question.

Before speaking again he methodically gathered all pieces back on the board in their respective places. Then, he leaned back in his seat, mimicking Helena's pose with hands folded over his chest.

"Now that I won, I expect some recompense for my trouble."

"Isn't the satisfaction of victory enough for you?"

"I had in mind satisfaction of a different kind." His head turned slightly to his right. "Come here." He gestured to a spot beside him.

Helena couldn't suppress a sharp gasp. Not that she was against sex with Bane in general, but in this particular moment she really wasn't in the mood. Maybe because she was a sore loser and he won way too easily to her liking.

"No."

"I see, you'd like to maintain the illusion of a battle to the end." His head bowed in a slow, sagely nod. "Very well."

He got up and reached to her head with his right hand, grabbing her bun and making her stand up beside him.

"To the victor go the spoils," he murmured.

His other hand took off her glasses, then caressed her cheek, fingertips testing softness of her skin, dipping lower to her lips, then all the way to her neck. At her collarbone he changed the direction, circling her shoulder with an abnormally heated palm.

"Will you be graceful in defeat?" He asked.

She shivered, trying to convince herself it was from the winter chill seeping into the room. Bane patiently waited for her response, warming her with the heat radiating off his body.

They both knew how the game would end, even before she proposed they play her way.

Looking into his eyes she once more considered her options. If she'd stay defiant he could do two things. Crush her resistance or punish her for insubordination. If she'd yield however…

She gave her answer in a simple nod, a short one since Bane still held her head up. He lowered his face towards her, moving her backwards with a subtle shift of his broad frame.

Back of the sofa dug into her hips, a reminder of his intentions. Her heart picked up tempo, anticipation mixing with budding arousal.

Deftly, he turned her around, then pushed steadily with a powerful palm splayed between her shoulder blades. Heat blossomed on her cheeks, partly from gravity pulling her blood down to her head, partly because she already felt the rush of excitement. She braced on soft cushions of the seat and on the sturdier armrest, waiting for the obvious next move.

There wasn't any sound behind her, nothing she would expect at least. No growl of velcro, no rasp of a zipper, no whisper of fabric sliding off of skin.

"Let down your hair," Bane said quietly.

She moved her head to the side and reached to take the pins out, trying to catch a glimpse of Bane in her peripheral. Despite that she jumped with surprise when he slid a finger down her spine. The movement was slow, as if he was counting the vertebrae under the smooth skin. Another shiver shook her muscles, chasing the path of his hand.

"Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure…"*

"Do you speak from experience?"

"Yes. Although my failures tended to be painful rather than pleasurable."

Question over how could he be sure of the pleasantness of the ordeal to her stuck in Helena's throat, stilled by his fingers splaying over her buttocks. Rustle of clothes and muffled thudding on the floor told her that he kneeled behind her.

She felt exposed and helpless, and realized that this had to be his exact intention, for her to feel completely at his mercy. Bane could have just as easily fingered her while standing up, but he chose to use her like this, to show her the extent of his power.

Relaxing over the backrest she prepared herself for the sensation of his hands prodding her body.

Instead she let out a surprised huff of air, as he dragged cold muzzle of his mask across her upper thighs. His palms splayed just above her knees, helping her spread her legs further, to the perfect angle he wanted to achieve.

All those times he promised he'd taste her… Was this the day he'd finally take his mask off?

The scraping of metal on her heated skin brought her back to present moment, paired with hot palms scaling up the inside of her thighs. He didn't even touch her pussy yet, and already she felt the wetness gathering with another sweet pang of excitement.

The minutia of the scene burned into her mind. The muscles of her back relaxed further, and she fell more comfortably against the cushions, while at the same time she tensed her legs in preparation of Bane's next move. His breath caressed her skin, ghosting over short hair at the back of her thighs with barely any force at all. Rough skin of his palms moved slowly up and up, towards her hips, making her fist her own hands into thick fabric of the sofa.

She knew intimately the texture under her cheek, knew it so well it felt like a piece of home. This felt like a ritual, this careful circling, testing the give, taking of any piece of her sanity Helena carelessly left exposed.

When Bane's hands reached top of her thighs, when he decided to take his mask off her skin, Helena whimpered.

"Are you in pain?"

There was no mockery in his voice, oddly enough.

She tried to muffle her frustrated whine, but to no avail. They were too close, and anyway Bane was too avid observer, his eyes always keen for any scrap of information he could gather. He had her filed away in neat little pieces, all ordered according to importance.

He knew how to press on her skin to steady her composure, to ground her with a simple reminder of her position.

He knew how she liked to be touched, and withheld his fingers from her core, teasing with his thumbs sneaking closer and closer, but never quite reaching the best spots.

He knew what her sudden groan meant, what she said without uttering a word with her feet stretching up so she was on her toes, ready for him and welcoming in her impatience.

"I asked you a question. I expect an answer."

He knew how to make her delirious with repressed desire. She was contradictory, but both of them knew that the conclusion of the conversation was inevitable. Two galaxies circling each other before they merged into a brilliant spiral of stars and dust and colourful gases.

But she would fight him every step to preserve her own identity, her unique perspective. Even if she wanted the same thing he was taking from her in that very moment.

"Yes I am." Helena managed to groan out through teeth clenched on the fabric of a cushion.

"Liar."

He chose that moment to slowly, oh so slowly, press his index finger into her weeping cunt. There was no resistance, only slick and smooth muscles giving way and then contracting around the digit, trying to keep him in, to get the most out of the fleeting contact. He slid out smoothly and circled her opening again.

"Did this hurt?"

Helena whimpered and fidgeted on her feet again, pressing out her hips to try and get him back in.

Bane's other palm curled reassuringly over her hip, deceptively gentle touch keeping her rocking at bay.

"Does it hurt?" He asked again. But this time, his voice didn't have the razor edge of steely command from before. Now he was rasping the words, holding himself back from taking what he so obviously wanted. His restraint worked for Helena like a gust of air stoking the blaze in her cunt to a roaring inferno.

"It does. It hurts so much."

"But I hardly did anything to you," he mocked.

"You don't understand. It's the emptiness that hurts. I'm aching for you. Fill me up."

At her words Bane curled his fingers, digging hard into her soft flesh. The hand at her hip fisted around the bone; the other slid a fraction lower and grabbed supple plane of her thigh.

The mask was back on Helena's skin, cold grate nuzzling her overheated nether lips. Bane growled, the sound morphing into a whine. His breaths were clearly audible, deeper than normal, as if he was gulping greedy mouthfuls of air desperate to catch even the smallest hint of the fragrance that wasn't his medication.

It was too much. Helena couldn't suppress another shiver, her legs trembling now with excitement. The room was no longer cold to her, the air seemed too thin. With weakened arms she tried to straighten, but a sound behind her froze her mid-way.

Bane growled, a vibrating animalistic threat, uncanny and primal.

His hands moved, scratching the soft skin under his fingernails, forcing Helena back into position.

"Stay."

That one word, a repetition of what was said before, so different under the circumstances. This time, it was not an order.

He didn't straighten, didn't move up. His only movement was slow leaning back, just far enough to see what he was about to do, but so close his body still pressed to Helena's calf. Pressure at her hip eased when he slid his palm down towards the knee. His right hand returned to her cunt.

"No, please, not just fingers…" She practically wept.

Bane just shooshed her, intent on the part of her he was about to touch. Navigating carefully, he let his fingertips glide over slick skin, once more tracing circles over the opening of Helena's cunt.

With some amusement he discovered that his hand was shaking.

But then he pressed in, surely sliding two fingers into the wet heat, stirring the hunger in himself to new heights. He listened to Helena's helpless moan, and fought not to close his eyes. Not just yet. Now he watched as his fingers disappeared rhythmically into blushed and puffed up folds, his own skin glistened with the woman's juices.

His woman's.

He kept her from moving with him, bracing with the hand hooked over her knee, crowding her with his body so close. But still she undulated her hips, trying to get as much pleasure as she could, even as she pleaded for more still.

When he slid his thumb down to her clit, the effect was instantaneous. Helena whined pitifully, tensed reflexively around his fingers.

Bane groaned and pressed his forehead to her skin, watching greedily the way his palm caressed her cunt.

"Please, please, just let me feel more of you, please Bane, please…" She kept on babbling, obediently keeping her upper torso down on the sofa.

Even though now he was too weak with need to stop her from straightening up and turning to him. He would let her do anything in that moment. Press him down to the floor. Straddle his hips. Take his mask off…

The last thought was too much.

She gasped when he took his hands away. Before her arms gathered the strength needed to get up, he was standing behind her, tugging sharply at his belt. Quick and efficient movements, ingrained in muscle memory, were completed without any active thinking on his part. Instead, he relished the sight before him, smooth line of Helena's back, glimpse of her neck under tousled hair, one eye on him as she bit her lips. She waited for him, tensed in anticipation, silently observing as he opened his slacks without any gentleness, the intensity of his purposeful movements bordering on anger.

When his eyes turned down and shoulders rounded with movement, it was clear enough sign that he was ready. Not a second too late he was at her entrance, warm and velvety skin teasing Helena's cunt.

She turned her head back to the cushions, pressing her forehead to the rough fabric and panting harshly.

Bane fucked into her with his eyes closed, his head thrown back, brows furrowed. Steady moan he let out sounded like a growl of static through the mask. He grinned and used his hold on Helena's hips to yank her closer with each thrust, his own body moving in powerful short bursts.

He fought to keep the pace steady, brisk but not rushed. Gulping the saliva down he straightened his neck to properly look at Helena, to gauge her reactions by more than just her moans.

A mistake.

She strained to meet his thrusts, toes fighting for purchase on smooth wooden floor. Her arms were braced on the cushions, keeping her chest from chafing with the to and fro movements.

Against all obstacles, she still tried to observe him.

Bane wondered how he looked to her. A conqueror enjoying his captive. His spoils of war. Taking her fully clothed, his boots grinding in the floor an inch away from the fragile vulnerability of her naked feet.

But she wasn't just another helpless prisoner. She was his scribe. His companion. She fought him for every privilege, she discussed his every statement. And now even though she was technically letting him use her… He knew it was mutual. He was giving her what she needed, taking the control, taking the burden of responsibility on himself.

The delicious friction was too much for him to let his thoughts flow in organised sentences. Instead, words jumbled in incoherent bursts, echoed by Helena's whimpered pleas.

"Yes! Right there! More, more, more…"

He punctuated each and every word with a strong snap of his hips, his cock sliding harshly in and out with maddening consistency.

Not too fast, he reminded himself.

Helena couldn't stop the involuntary contractions of her muscles, her cunt trying to keep Bane's cock in for as long as she could. She was dizzy, the forced position rushing too much blood to her head, even though it felt like her whole backside was on fire.

She needed just a little push to get over the edge.

Her eyes snapped open with a realization, a memory resurfacing in an instant. Another afternoon, another time Bane fucked her on that sofa. There had been an urgency much like now and with it an edge of frustration.

"Bane," she choked out, barely able to speak coherently over blood thumping in waves in her ears. "Bane, spank me."

She thought he didn't hear, and another forceful thrust made her shut her eyes closed with the movement.

But then, he transferred one hand to knead her ass, quickening his pace. His palm left her skin only to come back with a loud snap.

Helena didn't register Bane's groan responding to her sudden clenching, focused on the way he eventually granted her the wish she vocalized a while back. She felt full of him, inside and out. Surrounded with Bane's scent, his gasping breaths, feeling the desperate way his body sought hers.

Then he spanked her again, his hand landing low, almost at her thigh. And again, in the same place where he reached the first time, the reddened skin doubly sensitive.

She didn't even try to touch her clit, the constant grinding at the apex of her thighs more than enough to stimulate her, the hard pace with which Bane fucked her arousing to no end.

He gripped her with a bruising force and she knew it was the end for him. The last few pushes were not restricted, violently rocking Helena forward, nearly lifting her up with brutal force Bane used.

She came clenching over him when his rumbling groan reverberated through her back, the accompanying shiver rising hair at her nape. She felt everything. The hot wetness spilling inside her cunt. The way his heaving chest pressed close, too close to her spine. His arms circling her, keeping brunt of his weight off her smaller body. The mask pressing to her neck, almost reverently, like a kiss.

She was his, there was no escaping that.

But she was defiant. With the last of her strength, fighting the drowsiness that followed her orgasm, she puffed her lips in a pout and turned her head to shoot a glimpse of a smirk Bane's way.

He leaned back a bit to get a better look.

"I won," she proclaimed, and for once he didn't argue.

oOo

* * *

*Theodore Roosevelt quote.

* * *

 **Soooooooo, any thoughts? Ideas? Comments? Complaints?**

 **To my lovely reviewers:**

 **Slumberdollx - Again, I am so touched by what you wrote. Your words gave me wings. It's really beyond anything I can say in pretty sentences; the feelings a writer gets when someone shows this much thought in reading and responding to their story. I mean, I really am at a loos. Thank you, I appreciate your review a lot!**

 **Taxaceae - I still can't believe it, you missed two whole updates?! Oh the humanity!  
The technology failed you, but I hope this time the email will make it to your inbox on time. And hopefully will put a little smile on your face. Fingers crossed!**

 **KiaraExodus - even steven then, my writing gives you happines, and your comments bounce those good feelings right back at me. Yay! :D**

 **Adarya - my lovely, it is so good to see you again. I was a little worried about you, I have to admit. Anyway, glad you're back; coincidentally I just had this smut chapter nearly ready for a few months. Who would have imagined better timing, right? It's fate, it has to be! So, I hope you enjoyed this one, and if you ever feel down, I will be updating daily a short and silly chistmasy story with our favourite Mercenary, so you can find me there. (and some harmless fun as well)**  
 **If you have any more requests, do tell!**

 **That last sentence is to all of you guys, I really enjoy weaving stuff readers requested into the story. :)**

 **Reticulum is slowly shaping up...**


	15. Sextant

**There will be some action coming Helena's and Bane's way next month, but for now I thought about all those times they celebrated coming of the new year digitally.**  
 **So, let's have a little peek into their first real New Year's Eve together.**

* * *

 _Sextant_

 _The thing that tells you how to go where you want to be_

* * *

"Okay, I'm set. Just tell me when you want to go."

"Well, at midnight of course, dummy."

"We'll wait until midnight then."

Bane stated simply and nodded. Helena couldn't suppress a fond smile, as she watched him proudly from the terrace.

"Come back home," she said, "We have over an hour. "

He looked one last time at his work, but there was nothing left to straighten or improve. With a decisive huff he followed her inside.

"You want a martini?"

"Tea."

She double checked, her eyebrows raised as high as they would go.

"Really?"

"What's wrong with a cup of tea?" Bane asked, hugging her loosely and inhaling deeply the scent of her hair. Always there was this hint of sweetness and almonds. Intoxicating. The smell of home, he realized. He felt tears sting at the corners of his eyes, unusual and wondering. "I don't need alcohol to celebrate."

"Mhm, I guess you're not wrong." Helena's mumble warmed his exposed neck.

"Let's watch the fireworks by the fire, what do you say?"

"Good idea."

The last hour before New Year's was rushing past them with the preparations of the last little bits to eat and many pauses for a kiss or a hug. In the end they were huddled up before the open fireplace in the back terrace, Bane with a covered pot of tea, Helena with a shaker half full with her drink.

"How will you set it off?" She asked stupidly, after they cocooned in blankets.

Bane sighed, "I'll just have to go there and run back to you."

"You do that."

He scoffed, as if she might have been more pleasant, but both of them knew that she'd help if it was needed.

In the end her presence wasn't necessary, so he did exactly as he said. When the time came for Bane to light up the fuse he did it in a blink, then rushed out through the cottage to join Helena. She laughed seeing him sprint to get a look with her, and gleefully shouted to hurry, with her arms stretched out to grab him.

Big and bold tufts of flowing lights exploded in the sky above their heads, flashing through the night before vanishing with a hollow bang.

Helena gasped and inhaled reverently in awe for the spectacular view, her palms fisting in Bane's thick sweater.

He just watched her with amusement.

"Happy New Year," he murmured into her hair in the end.

She snuggled closer and said something, but the words were lost in another spectacular explosion.

Bane smiled broader and looked up into the sky as well.

* * *

 **Make your new year resolution now - always leave a comment on a story you've read till the last word!**

 **Happy New Year!**


	16. Reticulum, 1 of 8

**I've been sitting on this one way too long, haven't I**?

* * *

 _Reticulum - a net, or crosshairs._  
 _In which one learns to aim for the stars. And stars teach that sometimes they aim back._

* * *

 **Chapter 01**  
 **Brown**

* * *

John Brown wasn't always John Brown.

For instance, he was born Ricardo Sanchez. Not too daunting a name. So, when he used to be a CIA operative he worked under several aliases: Tim Perkins, Paul Schwartz, Karim Sayif.

He considered himself a patriot. That's why after Joker's attacks on Gotham he felt the need to do more. Being one of the dozens of unimportant agents, stationed in an unimportant country, tracking as it ultimately turned out insignificant people… That wasn't enough. He wanted to be someone who could do things really ensuring the safety of his compatriots - both domestic and abroad.

This is how he ended in DHS. The Department of Homeland Security, still shiny and new and building up its ranks. Brown fit right in, with other idealistic hotheads and solemn gruff men.

Bane's siege of Gotham was the event that shook him to his core again. All those unimportant people he used to trace, suddenly were way more threatening than he could ever imagine. Led by one of the goons who, back in his CIA days, seemed trivial and inferior. Who names himself Bane? Is every third-country warlord or a mercenary worth the hassle of a laborious operation prepared to infiltrate his organisation? When there are coups, civil wars, genocides and other atrocities, all around?

James used to think of those people as lesser men. He read an account once, of a woman kidnapped, abused, tortured until she didn't even resent her abductor and it only solidified this conclusion. Animals. There were exceptions, there were reasons and explanations, but ultimately he didn't care. Not unless they were big names with prospects of big promotion attached to their file.

Bane was one of those unimportant meagre mercenaries to him.

That is, until League of shadows, under his command, invaded his country.

He found all the faults and flaws of his understanding of the importance of marked targets. He learned how dangerous a mass of anonymous savages could be when led by a madman. The worst part was, he encountered Bane before and thought him ridiculous and inconsequential.

He was there for his colleagues whining over a witness who apparently suffered a bad case of Stockholm Syndrome. But neither them, nor their superiors felt the need to waste their time and resources on some hired gun working in forgotten parts of the world. After all, there were coups, civil wars, genocides and other atrocities to be taken care of...

But then the forgotten came to their home and mangled its shiny city. Gotham was in ruins. Saved in the last minute by a vigilante, no less. The animals who Brown hunted down held the entire nation hostage and the government danced to their tune, scorned and shamed by the world. Their president, a figure of contempt between the leaders, thrust down from his pedestal of the leader of a free world.

Some leader, with a foreign terrorist cell right in the middle of his lands, occupying a city, gambling with millions of lives. For months. To all those atrocities that were happening beyond blown up bridges, the country sends only one group of operatives. And they were unsuccessful, their lifeless bodies hanging for all to see, displayed as yet another mockery, right in their face.

Batman's rescue of Gotham was a fluke. Brown promised to himself he would never let a criminal seem too unimportant to catch.

And he'd start his penance with making sure his biggest mistake was really dead and buried.

oOo

There was no body.

Brown read through all of the reports on Bane and his activities during the siege. The last day he has seen people reported him fighting the police and Batman, an old-fashioned brawl on the steps of City Hall. Stupid. Bane was not a stupid animal, he was cunning, so why did he go along with that pitiful last stand of Gotham's finest? Why did he lose control of his city? Where did he go?

There weren't many leads in his investigation, most of them have been thoroughly followed by his predecessors who took Bane more seriously. Like Bill. Until recently no one knew that Bane was the one responsible for Bill Wilson's death, that he orchestrated the crash of the plane in Uzbekistan, he faked Pavel's death. The mercenary must have known of Wilson's obsession with him, and he used it to his advantage, killing two birds with one stone. Now, Brown was left with boxes of information that was carefully and systematically checked.

There was one nugget of possibility left, though.

The scribe, the one who was abducted by Bane and then left in a hospital in Armenian countryside. A very unusual thing to do for any kidnapper, and especially for someone as meticulous and organised as Bane. Brown read her files over and over again, and he saw all the blunders his fellow agents did. How they let her lie blatantly to their faces. How they misplaced tapes and left him only with copies of transcripts, old and faded. How they left big unanswered holes in her testimony. How no one followed up on the facts, she did provide.

He used up his vacation days to visit the hospital and the doctor who treated her. He found the monastery.

No leads were left there.

The doctor wasn't eager to cooperate, and Brown did not have any means of making him talk. The monastery was inhabited by monks, and they didn't let him walk around and check the rooms he read about.

This was a wild goose chase. The only foothold he had was the scribe. So he went to talk with the woman herself.

Norway was beautiful. He fell in love with deep sky over his head, the rolling clouds and tempestuous see in harmony even though they were ever changing. It was damn expensive though, and he wondered how a scribe could afford a stated of the art house out in the country, in what looked like a very prosperous place. Granted, the cottage wasn't very big, but it was very obviously new and packed with all amenities, and to top it off designed by someone minimalistic and practical.

In other words, it must have cost a fortune, and not a small one.

He parked his car way down and had a nice stroll first on the tarmac road, and then up some steps. Broad wooden planks were first, then the path wound down to flat stones, and the entryway was hidden between a wall of natural rock and the glass panel of the house itself. Hidden from view, secluded and cosy.

He knocked and heard a faint woman's voice reply,

"Come in!"

The door opened easily, and he tentatively peeked inside.

"Mrs Wolf?"

There was a murmur of fabric somewhere to his left, and he stepped in to get a better look. His host was in bed, weirdly raised way above the level of the house, clearly waiting for someone else than him.

Awkward.

She had a coughing fit which let Brown look around the house undisturbed. It looked like she was alone.

"Who are you?" She wheezed out eventually. "I was actually waiting for a friend to pick me up, I don't have much time before my visit to the doctors."

"I see. My name is Brown. I'm with Homeland Security." He tried to be as pleasant as possible. This was his only lead.

The woman scoffed.

"Homeland," she practically spat. "Wouldn't it be easier to understand if you said you're with US Government?"

"Perhaps," he said to placate her. He read the reports by other agencies and knew that she could be openly hostile. "I was wondering if we could have a talk. When you get better, of course."

"Concerning what?"

"Bane."

He observed as her face solidified into a stagnant mask. Was this trauma of the abduction, or was she hiding something else?

"Why would you want to talk with me about a dead man?"

"A missing man," he corrected.

"Why would you want to talk with me about a missing man then?"

This was too much to be just a reflexive reaction to having her peace disturbed. She was hiding something. She knew something.

"I think you are a person he might want to contact." The try was a gamble. It was true, and he did think that Bane could contact her, however, he left his cards too exposed if she was a seasoned liar and manipulator.

"He didn't through last ten years. I'll let you know if he changes his mind. Leave a card on the stairs please." The dismissal was plain to see.

He wanted to try one more time to placate her. He could work the information out.

But then the door at the front of the cottage opened, glass panels sliding without effort, and in came a tall man. Like he was at home here.

"Helena," he greeted the host but kept his eyes firmly on Brown.

He came through the terrace. Thick scarf peeked out from a navy blue jacket, jeans were tucked in big brown boots, messenger bag hanging off one shoulder. He looked harmless enough, especially when he moved, wobbling carefully closer, the pain of every step visible in a rigid way he held himself.

But there was something off. His eyes were too sharp. Too familiar.

"We should go soon," he said. Nodded at Brown. "Tony Dorrance."

"John Brown."

Neither offered a hand to shake, but they kept observing each other.

What was it about this guy?

"You better go," Dorrance said. His voice had an edge to it, a glimmer of certainty and command that was not meshing well with the image of a tired scholar.

The woman had another coughing fit, so Brown just nodded and left.

He would try to contact the woman again, and until then he will be mulling over that man. Who was he exactly?

oOo

Anthony Dorrance was an interesting man.

He was the person Helena Wolf talked about when she rambled on to him about her precious friend left to die in Gotham. Did she really believe what she said? Was she delusional?

Did Dorrance was such masterful manipulator he could pretend to be two people at the same time?

Brown started the work on him the usual way. Databases had the most rudimentary info; DOB, education, some jobs, some things he wrote. But it got interesting when he got to the pictures. The scars hinted at life way more interesting than the one portrayed in his files.

So he started working the man backwards.

He was in Norway for only a few weeks. Arrived with a plane from London. Both cottages were his, acquired a few years prior, so that wasn't suspicious in the least. What was, however, was how he got them. It turned out that the guy was not only a talented physicist but also a historian. Dealing with antiquities; old books and manuscripts mostly.

Suspicious.

Brown tried to trace his moves before London, and there he struck gold. The guy appeared in Azores two months after Gotham. But prior to that? A big black mysterious hole. He was in Gotham until May the previous year, but there was no movement in the months leading to the occupation of the city.

Was he there?

His name was on the list of suspected victims, struck down when he reported back to the British consulate on San Miguel.

How did he get from a besieged city to an archipelago in the middle of the Atlantic? And no less than five weeks after the occupation was thwarted? Why? Why didn't he report to the authorities in the USA? Why wasn't there any mentions of him crossing the border before the Azores?

Very suspicious.

Brown tracked Dorrance's history backwards all the way down to his birth, but it didn't yield much good.

He turned back to the Gotham episode. He turned up the photos and compared.

Did his eyes resemble Bane's?

oOo

Much to Brown's dismay, the forensic facial comparison was a flop.

Bane's face was hidden by the mask the only visible parts were his eyes and two lines extending over them up to the middle of his head. Not nearly enough for any comparison.

But his gut told him he was onto something.

He decided to approach this problem differently. He had a plethora of Bane's pictures, so he gathered all the ones of Dorrance too and tried to see if there were any similarities. He found some, but not many. The slope of his shoulders, perhaps. His pointed stare, and the colour of his eyes.

Even to himself, all of that sounded pathetic.

Once, in the middle of the night working an entirely different case, he remembered a detail. Gotham's police commissioner had a run in with Bane, just before the siege.

Brown went to interview Gordon, which turned out to be a bizarre experience.

"So you're saying kid, that he isn't dead?"

"He is presumed dead, and I would like to make sure of it. There was no body."

"Yeah, like with Batman."

"Exactly. Do you remember anything that could help identify him?"

Gordon scoffed, looking over the city. He invited Brown to the roof, which seemed odd at first. Even more so when the agent noticed brand new Bat-Signal waiting in the corner, the lamp pointed upwards, ready to call in a hero.

But he was dead. Wasn't he?

"So many people focused on his bulk… I see what you're doing here, kid. You have good instincts." The commissioner shook his head, trying to grasp faint wisps of recollection.

"Let me walk through what happened there. I went in pursuit down to the sewers. Two guys with me. Some idiot started shooting, and I don't know what blew up, but there was a big explosion. I was overwhelmed and got a nice hit to the head. If I were younger by twenty years then maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Well, they dragged me down the tunnels and brought to Bane."

He stopped and frowned deeply.

"He was crouching, shirtless. There was a scar running the length of his spine, a nasty, ropey thing. No marks on his chest, as far as I could see. Some burns on his shoulders, but old and faded. I didn't get a long look at him, I was pretending to be dizzy. But what I remember the most is how enormous he seemed. Raw and brutal power radiating off him. Later, when I watched him on the television, he was still formidable, but I can't shake this dread that I felt then. Because he was terrifying even when relaxed."

This was pure gold.

"Thank you. Thank you so much for sharing that with me."

"You don't think he's dead, kid, do you?"

"I don't. There is a lead. A woman he might have wanted to contact."

"What woman would be with a monster like that?"

"Maybe she's a monster too."

"Maybe."

oOo

Armed with information from Gordon, Brown started working on Dorrance full time. He screened all of his accounts, all of his books, everything he could find on the man.

He was squeaky clean. Too clean to be genuine.

The fervour of righteousness burned in his chest, the elation propelling him forward.

His work suffered, but Brown was sure that finding Bane was imperative. Proving that Dorrance was him. That the terrorist who planned to kill millions with a bomb was alive and living peacefully, while all those families of thousands of his victims despaired.

And then he got a visit that stoked his conviction even more, that motivated him to try harder still.

He was looking at pictures of Dorrance, the scientist caught unawares shopping and walking around town. The last of the work Brown managed to squeeze while he still was in Norway.

Then someone brought a bag over his head and bound his wrist behind the chair. So fast he barely could comprehend what happened before he was panting quickly into the rough fabric scratching his nose. He couldn't see a thing but felt a presence shift beside him.

"You are investigating Bane," the person said. It was a man, and he had some weird piece of tech that made his voice unrecognisable. Growling lowly, threateningly.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Batman," the man said.

"Batman is dead."

"As is Bane."

"I have evidence that he may be alive."

"I saw him die."

"Did you check his body?"

"He was struck by a rocket, straight in the chest, then propelled ten feet away with a blast. He can't be alive."

"How are you not dead then?"

"A trick."

"Are you the only person in the world capable of such tricks?"

There was no answer. He struggled against his bounds and found out that the knots were loosely tied. On purpose.

When he took the bag away, he was once again alone in the room.

Some of Bane's pictures were missing.

oOo

The second visit to Norway was official. Brown showed his findings to his bosses and implored. He just needed to check. To make sure. What if it turned out that this guy was somehow connected to Bane? He didn't tell them outright he thought Dorrance was the masked man, he had enough clarity of mind not to sabotage himself this way. But he plotted and schemed. The proof that tipped the scale was Dorrance's scientific work.

Brown convinced his people that is was all coded messages to terrorists.

The antiquities were an obvious giveaway of laundering money too.

But before the bureaucratic machine was moved into action, he wondered whether to give Mrs Wolf one last chance at redemption.

* * *

 **I bet you guys didn't expect that, huh? ;) Next chapter will be here presently. I have to work on the Christmas fic a bit, but it should be posted in another week, I think.**


	17. Reticulum, 2 of 8

**I don't know what to work on, this or the advent calendar story! So many ideas!**

* * *

 _Reticulum - a net, or crosshairs._  
 _In which one learns to aim for the stars. And stars teach that sometimes they aim back._

* * *

 **Chapter 02**  
 **Into the Crosshairs**

* * *

On the next morning after the fateful day when they learned of Anna's death, Bane sat Helena down in his living room and started an in-depth questioning.

Each and every person at the Easter table was carefully investigated and scrutinised, all findings noted in meticulous detail, and pinned to the wall outside Bane's bedroom. Out of sight of prying eyes, but readily available for him or Helena, if she chose to add any information she previously omitted.

As it turned out Bane, as it was, knew an insane amount of details about Helena's life, and by extension her friends. But there were blanks, all the more noticeable for his experienced and brilliant mind.

"So, Lucy and Tom, you've never met them before."

"That's right. And I didn't really talk much with any of them during the brunch. Tom mentioned he's working on a novel about living out in the woods. A 'Walden' of sorts, I think? Lucy was too far away, and since they came late and then the whole ordeal with Anna began I didn't have an opportunity to engage any of them properly."

"He's been truthful about his occupation, but she has some interesting things in her resume," Bane commented, but ignored Helena curious gaze and moved on with his questions. "Next, our thespian," he spat the last word with distaste. "What do we know of Alex? Of course there is a trove of information on his personal life online." He clicked his teeth and winked to snickering Helena. "But we need something less common and more substantial."

"He's gay," Helena supplied. "All those rumours of dates with models and fellow actresses is just publicity. He wants to build his fanbase as wide as he can."

"Indeed?" this time Bane's tone in voice was unusually gleeful.

A small smile graced Helena's lips.

"Were you jealous of him?"

"That scrawny little pest? Of course not," he replied with a derisive snort.

"Of course not," the scribe mocked. "Who's next?"

"Magnus."

"Met him for the first time, but Grace and Graham mentioned the boy frequently. He's from a very low-income family, a single parent I think. Grace mentioned something about a very old acquaintance. They finance his studies, which basically means they pay his monthly expenses. I don't know the details."

"Perhaps they would like to correct an aspect of this society that isn't to their liking."

"What do you mean?"

"You may remember I noticed that the brunch was like a scene from a novel. Let's talk about our gracious hosts. Both are over their sixties. There is a longing there, a nostalgia for what had been. They're playing bridge. No one plays bridge anymore."

"They're charming people," Helena argued. She knew them for years now, and always could rely on Grace's motherly advice or Graham's generous hand with alcohol.

"Did you know that Graham was a high ranking officer in CIA?"

"I thought he was some kind of retired chemistry professor."

"He is. A person can be more than one thing."

"None of them ever mentioned anything of the sort. Do you think Grace knows?"

"She disabled perimeter detectors that day when she came to invite us to brunch."

The information visibly shook the scribe.

"You have that kind of security?" she gasped.

"We have," Bane corrected pointedly. "And I've replaced them and changed the pattern to something she wouldn't know. added some new toys as well," he murmured the last part tapping a finger to his lips pensively.

"Oh, my."

"You thought Grace was just a homemaker."

"When they lived here we visited each other very frequently. She had never been anything other than friendly, pleasant and appropriate. She does charity work, and has some innocent pastimes."

"Did you ever take her to the shooting range?"

"No. I go alone. For a while, I used to go with a friend, but it was only because I met him there already."

That piece information caught Bane's attention enough to make him swirl around to face Helena again.

"Who?"

"Weren't we supposed to talk about people at the brunch?"

His eyes narrowed, but he reluctantly let go.

"We'll get to that later, then. So, Grace and Graham are a veritable mystery to you. Our friendly policeman and his family, do they have any secrets or peculiarities?"

"Tirill works with Anna at the school. And they both have tried to convince me to start calligraphy workshops for kids. Jack is mostly out in Oslo, studying. When she comes on weekends, we sometimes see each other at Hanson's, but that's that. "

"You didn't mention anything about Knut."

"Nothing to say. How did you know him?"

"We met when I first came here to buy the land, and then when I was building cottages."

"Did he see you without the mask back then?"

"Yes."

"That's wonderful."

"I'm glad you're happy about it. "

"No, I'm serious. Look, that story about you studying in Hong Kong and then working as an antique dealer, and now making the people here know and remember you before Gotham! It's the best cover!"

"Most of that was true." The sofa dipped when he sat down with a small grunt. "The point of our little exercise here is to sow the oats of the official facade, and get to the truth underneath."

The remainder was sobering. It was just as Bane said. The truth could be hidden beneath what was apparent and ostensibly obvious. Even though he was an astrophysicist and a historian he also was a terrorist and a killer.

"Who do we have left?" she asked with a tired sigh.

"Sven and Anna."

The spite in Bane's words reminded Helena of his terse exchange with the medic at the brunch.

"What do you have against my good doctor?"

"Nothing. What gave you the idea I have anything against the man?"

"Dorrance, you said to him. Not Tony, like you introduced yourself to others. Why single him out?"

"Alex and Magnus also didn't get to call me by my first name."

"Oh, but Lucy did feel right at home calling you Tony," she pointed out.

"I didn't notice."

"Right."

Bane hid a satisfied curl of his lips.

"Is there anything at all you think is relevant regarding Anna or her father?"

"You know, I always thought she was a tad closer to Graham than Grace. It was subtle but seemed like whenever I visited she was keeping close to him. Nothing overt. Maybe it was because Grace is such good friends with Sven. Come to think of it, I would not be too fond of listening to my parents' chit-chat, so that's probably it."

"Probably."

"Why are you asking me all those questions?"

"I told you. One of the guests at the brunch may have been a killer. I won't stand to have someone like that near you."

"Is that all? You're wasting your time and considerable mind power to maybe find a perpetrator of a possible crime. Because as far as I know, it was an accident, wasn't it? Listen, time is the most precious of resources. We all have a finite amount of it. Even the most brilliant of geniuses," she sent him a pointed look, "has the same twenty-four hours in a day, as we all do. You could leave the police work to the police, and focus on your dark matter or whatnot."

"Dark waves," he corrected gruffly. "Let's consider this my hobby."

"An escape from the tedious day job?" She laughed.

"Something like that." Bane gathered her close, and kissed her temple, then hid his nose behind her ear and inhaled the fragrance of her hair deeply. "It will help me stay calm."

Helena couldn't argue with that.

oOo

On Wednesday Helena went out with Bane as he was leaving for his pilates class. She had a date with Grace right after and needed to do some shopping in the free hour she'd get before the class ended. Then it was an afternoon of helping with the funeral affairs, the notices, the flower arrangements, the musicians. All that tedious and costly work that needed to be done, but no one ever wanted to actually take care of.

And then there was the prospect of a visit to the chapel, to seal the casket after a short ceremony for the closest family.

In the church there was only Sven, sobbing quietly on Grace's shoulder. Helena was standing awkwardly beside them feeling like a third wheel. The doctor left some trinkets on Anna's chest, and both women put in a simple rose each, and then it was done. The scribe didn't even listen to the priest, the prayers foreign to her not only because of the language but also because she felt them unnecessary.

She remembered when she thought that Bane and Dorrance were both dead, back when she didn't know she was actually mourning one person. The trips to the sea were her prayers, steely sky and stormy sea her church, cold sand under her feet was her pew. The wind howled a requiem every day, and the vastness of the water reflected how empty she felt. Everything was hidden beneath the waves, and the surface looked as if no life was there. Only different brands of emptiness.

Grace's palm at her shoulder brought Helena out of her musings, and she sent a pale grimace resembling a smile Sven's way. He nodded and left with the priest, while Grace hooked her arm with Helena's and started the opposite direction, out the main entrance and into her car.

Drive to Helena's cottage was mostly silent.

"She was so young," Grace said while waiting for the lights to change.

Helena looked over and saw that the older woman's eyes were glued to a pair of people sitting on a bench. They were kissing. Despite the cold, the girl had a simple dress on, and the boy didn't have a proper coat. But they looked comfortable and happy.

"Reckless," Grace added.

Helena observed her when the light changed, and the car moved obediently forward under the experienced touch.

"Why do you say that?"

"Say what?"

"That Anna was reckless. She seemed pretty dull to me, actually."

"She had her little secrets. Still wet behind the ears, but thought she was an old dog."

The comment was angry. Unusual and uncharacteristic, especially since both women always seemed to get along just fine.

"Don't we all have our mysteries? The undisclosed desires and actions under wraps?"

"I guess we all do. Sorry, I'm still shaken."

"I understand, don't worry." There was still some five minutes of the drive ahead, and Helena would hate to part on a sour note. "You have a lot on your plate, especially with how much you help out Sven."

"Thank you, darling," Grace sighed. "To be honest, I'm worried about the clinic. Sven needs someone to cover for Anna until we find a full-time replacement, and we can't have the girls at the reception desk doing overtime for a month. But he doesn't feel like recruiting now, and who can blame him?"

"I could help out," Helena offered. "Not like I have anything better to do anyway. Small commissions won't be taking too much of my time, and I can spare few hours every day to help."

"Would you really?" Grace perked up. "Oh, that would be wonderful!"

"Sure, let's get over the details after the funeral. I'll be able to start next Tuesday."

"We have the schedule fixed until the end of the month, but I'll be sure to ask if any of the girls would like to change her hours. And you could start a regular shift in May, just four or six hours a day, until we find someone."

"Sure thing."

Grace stopped by Bane's cottage at Helena's request and refused to go in for a cup of tea, excusing herself with her tiredness. Maybe it was for the better, the scribe thought, seeing how absorbed Bane was with his notes. She let herself in through the main entrance, the one either of them rarely used, which left her approaching Bane from the corridor. He was sitting with his back to her, fireplace blazing, a cup of tea on the table in front of him, along with some loose sheets of paper. He was scribbling something but stopped as soon as he felt Helena's palm slide over his shoulders.

"Have you eaten?" he asked.

"Not yet. Did you wait with dinner?"

"I did."

"That's nice," she said.

Bane dropped his papers to the side when she circled the sofa and climbed on his lap. His lips stretched in an amused warm smile when Helena nuzzled the side of his neck, the sensation pleasantly tingling.

"Your nose is cold."

"I'm warm someplace else, wanna check?"

"Perhaps later."

"What are you working on?"

"My hobby."

She chuckled into his arm and straightened with a resigned sigh.

"You're incorrigible. Obsessed with a problem until it's picked apart and explained in its entirety."

"That's… An accurate characteristic," he admitted begrudgingly.

"Grace is very similar to you in that regard. She is so absorbed into the funeral arrangements she even started organising Sven's clinic."

"Did she?"

"Mhm. What's for dinner?" She slid away and went towards the kitchen, stretching arms over her back with a slight gasp.

"I've made curry. Rice is warm in the cooker."

Bane sat at the counter, watching Helena wash her hands, then ladle out the meal.

"So what's with the clinic, why does it need organising?"

"Anna used to help out at the reception desk, so now the rest of the girls have to juggle overtime to cover for her absence. I offered to help."

"Indeed?"

Helena set the bowls on the table and slid out the cutlery drawer without looking.

"Grace was so tired with all the stuff she does, and then she started telling me how they have to find someone to take Anna's place. And of course, Sven is in no state to hire anyone at this point. So she said they had to find a way to fill the gap, but it is straining everyone, and she worried so much about it."

"Did she say 'we' while talking about the clinic?" Bane asked before tucking into his meal.

"Several times." The spoon stilled midway to Helena's mouth, and she set in back in the bowl after a second. "Why?"

"She's not working there. Nor is she an owner."

"So what gives her the impulse, or the right to treat clinic affairs as her own?"

"As her's and Sven's."

"They are pretty close."

"Too close?"

"Hard to say."

"Worth a check," Bane said in the end.

"But not tonight," Helena cautioned. "I require your assistance."

Bane compiled, and let Helena snuggle with him on the couch watching a movie on Netflix.

But he was scribbling in his notes again when she left, barely raising his head when she said goodnight and lowered over him for a parting kiss.

oOo

The door opened almost noiselessly, the only sound disturbing the tranquillity of the living room was the seal hissing slightly when the door detached from the frame and a single squeal of the hinges. Helena expected to see Bane in the kitchen or reading on the sofa, but the whole room was dark.

"Hey, what's for dinner?" she yelled towards the corridor. "You missed the lunch hours, so it's dinner time already!"

Perhaps he was asleep? Lately, he did have a habit of grabbing a few hours of sleep during the day. Helena knew it was because he could barely catch any rest at night, so she didn't comment on that. Good thing he could get some respite at all.

She walked cautiously down the corridor, making sure she was as noisy as possible.

"Are you in your bedroom?" she asked, the smile on her face transported in her voice. "If you are there won't be any more sleeping, you know that?"

She stopped just outside his door. Open. The bed was made and seemingly untouched, and the room looked neat and ordinary as ever.

Helena frowned, looking around to see if anything at all was out of place. But no, save for the bizarre display just beyond the entrance it all seemed perfectly normal.

With a sigh she neared the wall in the corridor, transferred by Bane into a repositorium of his knowledge over people present at the brunch. The information she offered was put down on the paper, the notes much more extensive than she first realised. He had researched those people in depth, and she wondered when and why. Certainly, she never told him when Magnus's birthday was, and yet that date was on a sheet of paper dedicated to the man, along with a picture of him, and even more notes. His family history, his education? Ties to Hanson's and other people at the table?

How did Bane know all that?

She inspected the papers, amazed at the intricate details and the insane attention to any possible links at all. There even was a sketch of the table itself, with the placement of guests and pencilled in numbers. Helena had five and nine, Bane eleven and ten.

She wondered, what did it all mean?

The silence of the cottage felt oppressive all of a sudden. There was no one there. Only the wind blew at the wooden and concrete structure, making the roof moan slightly as it always did. It never bothered Helena before, but today it felt ominous. Foreboding.

Bane was nowhere in sight.

Just to make sure, she inspected every nook and cranny, even those which she rarely visited. The boiler room, bathroom and toilet, laundry room and pantry. Last was Bane's study, converted from the old dining room, which he used mostly as a storage space for books and papers. Helena barely saw him work there, he mostly just sat in the living room. At least he did that whenever she was home with him.

There was no note anywhere, not in the kitchen, nor in her room, so with a shaky sigh she sat down by the dark fireplace and took out her phone.

No messages there either.

Bane was under 'ICE Dorrance, Tony 3' and she felt a pang of resentment that even in her own smartphone she couldn't just call him by his real name. But it was out of the question, and she understood of course. Still, it didn't feel right.

When she dialled up, she heard the worst possible answer.

"The number you have called is currently unavailable. Please try again later."

At that moment fear gripped her so harshly, Helena felt her chest tighten.

What could have happened to him?

* * *

 **As always, review replies here.**

 **Sxevlbtch - I hope this chapter didn't disappoint and at least matched your expectations!**

 **Guest - Well... I am big on happy endings myself. However, there is a journey to get there. I hope you'll enjoy the ride. :)**

 **Taxaceae - Woohoo indeed! :D I'm so happy to be back with Helena, Bane and you all!**


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